


this mind is a black hole

by something1d



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, idek, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:23:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something1d/pseuds/something1d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where louis is broken, and all harry wants to do is fix him. uni au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright © 2013 by something1d, all rights reserved.

this mind is a black hole ~ larry stylinson

****

_"beauty does not come in sizes_

_it comes in smiles_  
it comes in glimmering eyes  
it comes in love 

_it comes in you."_

****

This is the beginning.

This is when the stars align, when everything somehow falls into place.

This is when fate decides that it's the opportune time to release what it has in store, stopping everything in one of those in-between moments that change it all forever.

This is how it starts.

****

It all begins on a Friday, and Harry's late. It's just an ordinary Friday too, the first day of Harry's first semester of uni at UCLA. In America. Hundreds and hundreds of miles away from where he grew up in England, from Holmes Chapel, from home.

Okay, so maybe it's not just an ordinary Friday, but it's not an extremely special day either. Just normal. But that's not the point.

The point is that Harry's sprinting across campus, about three minutes away from being late to his mid-morning Shakespeare seminar. He'd spent a solid twenty minutes trying to find it, going from building to building before someone kindly pointed him in the right direction. Turns out it was located in basically the exact spot he'd started looking.

Fuck UCLA and its massive massiveness.

He sighs in relief when he rounds a corner and sees the building in front of him. By the time he actually makes it into the room, he's sweaty and burning and hating life. He sinks into a seat in the back row, practically throwing his rucksack to the ground and letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh. Luckily, the professor hasn't arrived yet, so everyone's just talking quietly, on their phones, or staring off into the distance.

Everyone except one person, that is.

He's sitting a few seats down from Harry, to his right. He's frantically jotting something down in a small notepad, glasses almost slipping off his nose and tongue poking out in his concentration. The mystery boy runs a hand through his hair in frustration, glaring down at the paper in front of him with what, curiously enough, seems to be a combination of resentment and sadness.

When Harry sees him, he's rendered speechless. He's quite disappointed in himself, actually, because he never thought life could actually be such a cliche but hey, you never know, right?

Anyways.

Literally every single thought in his mind is gone. Just, poof. Bye. Gone.

He feels as though this person is familiar in a really strange way, but also knows that he definitely would've remembered a face like that, had he ever seen it.

It's then that he realizes that he's basically gaping at this boy sitting not even two meters away from him and that he's definitely going to notice Harry staring at him like a loon.

Harry swallows thickly and forces his eyes to focus on the desk in front of him. Who is he?

He sneaks glances at this beautiful stranger up until the professor walks in and begins his lecture. No, that's a lie, Harry practically stares at him throughout the duration of the class and even watches him afterwards as he scurries quickly out of the room, before Harry remembers that the seminar is, in fact, over, and that he should probably get up to leave too.

But the boy hadn't even spared him a glance.

Harry thinks about him throughout his next class, and then during his late lunch, and then during his shift at the small cafe he works in. He thinks about him that night, as he's laying in bed and trying to go to sleep, about how he just wants to know this boy, know who he really is.

And before sleep consumes him, he vows to himself that he's going to talk to him the next time he sees him.

****

The following Monday, Harry actually arrives to class on time. Thank god.

He walks into the room a full seven minutes early, feeling strange. It's like a combination of nerves and excitement. But mostly nerves. Because, this is the class with _him._

Harry feels like he should probably be paying more attention to the actual class itself, instead of this boy who doesn't know he exists. Oh well.

He scans the room quickly before finding him in the same seat as before, once again scribbling on his little notepad.

Harry takes a deep breath before making his way toward him.

He drops his rucksack on the floor by the chair next to the boy before sliding into it. "Hi," he says brightly, giving the boy his most charming smile.

The boy's pen freezes on the pad, and he turns his head to glance at Harry. His gaze is blank, and reveals nothing. "Hello," he mutters quietly, and Harry notes that he has a Yorkshire accent; which means that he's British too.

They're practically soulmates already.

The boy covers up what he had written by flipping open to a new page. He keeps his eyes trained on the blank paper, and Harry feels slightly discouraged when he says nothing else.

They sit in silence for a bit, and Harry doesn't know what to do with himself. He wills his now-heating face to calm itself before he makes a complete fool out of himself.

But, maybe it's too late for that one.

"So," Harry says, smiling at the boy again. "Are you new here too?"

"No, this is my second year." The boy's still not looking at him.

"Are you dorming?" Harry asks, attempting to keep the conversation going and feeling like a fool for not having anything better to say.

The boy shakes his head. "No, I did last year though. I'm renting out a flat a little ways away with my roommate."

"That's cool." Harry nearly smacks himself in the face for not coming up with anything better to say.

But then. "What about you?" the boy asks, turning to face him slightly.

Score. Harry feels himself gain a bit of his confidence back. "I live on campus. Hedrick Summit."

"Fancy," the boy says, almost teasingly. Harry's smile widens a bit. "Mum insisted," he says, not taking his eyes off the boy's face once.

"So you're a mummy's boy then?" the boy smirks, teasing, looking Harry in the eye for the first time. They've changed from a stony blue to a beautiful, sparkling cerulean that Harry just wants to dive into.

Harry shrugs in response, full on grinning now. "What can I say, that's me," he says cheekily, even throwing in a wink. The boy snorts, and turns his head to hide his slowly growing smile, and Harry can't contain his excitement.

The professor walks in at just that moment, and Harry's heart sinks with disappointment. He had really liked where this conversation was going.

As soon as class is dismissed, Harry turns to the boy, only to find that he's already out of his seat and is almost to the door.

"Wait!" Harry calls after him, trying to keep his voice at an appropriate volume so as to not draw any attention. The boy slows down, turning his head over his shoulder, eyes blank again, to Harry's confusion, as he watches Harry jog over to him. He's so tiny, Harry notices, all soft curves and small hands clutching his notepad tight to his chest.

Harry can't help but think that he's perfection, absolutely everything about him is just -

"Perfect," Harry breathes softly, and then freezes, because he wasn't supposed to say that out loud. The boy arches an eyebrow. "Come again?

"Uh, nothing, never mind," Harry says quickly. "I just hadn't gotten your name is all."

Something changes in the boy's eyes, makes them look curious rather than guarded. He hesitates before he answers. "Louis," he says, before walking away without another word, leaving an extremely perpelexed Harry standing in the empty hall behind him.

****

Harry's in his afternoon psychology class and he's still thinking about his conversation with Louis that morning. How he's so head over heels for someone who doesn't even know his name, he can't figure out. But he doesn't really care about that right now.

He didn't get much out of it other than his name, but he got something. And that's all he needs. He has the rest of the semester to figure Louis out.

"I'd like to take this moment to explain to all of you an assignment that you're going to be handing in on the day of your final," is the first thing Dr. Larson says as he walks into the room. "Seeing as this is, in fact, a psychology class, we're clearly going to be doing a lot of analyzing. Therefore, as a way for me to keep track of your progress and your understanding of the material we will be talking about, I want you all to start a sort of journal, if you will."

Harry raises his eyebrows. Like a diary? Ew.

"In this journal, I want you to write out weekly entries, starting this week, analyzing another person. It doesn't have to be someone you're close to, though it can be. You can pick a complete stranger too, I don't care, as long as you will be able to see them on a regular basis to write about them."

Hm. Harry leans forward in his seat.

"This isn't going to be something like an interview, where you ask them what their favorite color is and how old they are and that's it. If you want to get an A on this assignment, I want in-depth entries about the inner workings of this person's mind, what makes them tick, why they are the way that they are."

Oh yes, Harry's extremely excited now.

"Your goal here is to find out everything you can about this person, to know them inside and out. Their pasts, their childhoods, what makes them happy, what upsets them, their insecurities, their strengths, their weaknesses, sociocultural influences, psychoanalytical elements, etcetera. You also must include the six methods of analysis that I lectured about last week, everything you need should be from those lecture notes. I'm not going to assign a specific format, you'll have to figure that out on your own. Any questions?"

No one raises a hand.

"Good. Again, that will be due on the day you take your final exam. So, moving on, today we'll be discussing gender psychology and the emasculation of males in your generation..."

Harry tunes out the professor, feeling this heated energy rising up in his chest.

He doesn't know how he's going to do this, has absolutely no clue. But one thing is clear: Harry wants to unlock the mystery that is Louis, and he thinks his professor has just handed him the key.


	2. week one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where louis is broken, and all harry wants to do is fix him. uni au.

A/N: Helllooooo world!   
So a part of the inspiration for this story was the fact that I'm actually taking a psychology class this semester (a high school one, obviously not a university level class), so I'm going to be incorporating a couple of things into the journal entries (and maybe Harry's class overall) that I've learned in my actual class! Pretty cool, right? No? Okay then.   
I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I'd love to hear your thoughts so please comment what you think below! Happy reading :) 

****

When Harry walks into the Shakespeare seminar on Wednesday, he has a plan.

He gets to class a full twenty minutes early. It's completely empty. He sits in the same seat he sat in on Monday. And waits.

Five minutes later, only him and one other girl are in the room, and the girl's eyeing him rather unashamedly. He shifts in his seat, feeling uncomfortable, and pulls out his phone just to have something to look at. He locks and unlocks his phone over and over again. And waits.

Another few minutes later, and people are slowly starting to arrive. The girl from earlier is still sending him quick glances every once in a while, smiling flirtatiously. Harry really, really wants to tell her that he's not interested.

But he doesn't think there's really any subtle way to let her know that he likes dick.

He's getting impatient. But still, he waits.

Harry's zoning out, staring blankly at the front of the room without even realizing it, and is starting to really want to give up when he hears the chair next to him creak a bit. He starts, whipping his head to his left, and he sees Louis' little sheepish-looking face peeking out at him from beneath his fringe. An automatic smile starts to slowly spread across Harry's face, without him even realizing it. He's so gone for this boy.

"Sorry if I scared you," Louis says in his slightly high but contrastingly raspy voice as he sits down slowly, setting the little yellow notepad that he was gripping tightly in his hands on the desk before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

"I like your glasses," Harry blurts out unthinkingly, feeling his face heat up afterwards. He doesn't regret it though, he really does like Louis' glasses. A lot.

Light red dusts Louis' cheeks. "Thank you," he says quietly, biting his lip as if trying to contain a smile. 

That made Harry really happy.

"Anytime," Harry says softly, smile sliding off his face as he really takes Louis in. He has a freckles dotting his face and sprinkled across his nose. The sleeves of his thin shirt are slightly too long for his arms, making them cover his hands a little bit and it's absolutely endearing. He just wants to put Louis in his pocket and carry him around everywhere. His hair is messy and tousled, but in the most perfect way. 

And then he sees that Louis is uncomfortably shifting around in his seat and is looking him funny out of the corner of his eye, and wow Harry's such a creep. 

He clears his throat and looks down towards his notebook, which is open to Monday's lecture notes. 

And then he remembers.

"I don't think I really got to introduce myself to you on Monday."

Pause.

"Yeah, I, erm, I suppose you didn't."

"Well, my name's Harry. I enjoy baking and long walks on the beach," he tacks in at the end jokingly, smiling teasingly at Louis.

Louis gives him a small smile, looking thoughtful. "Harry," he says, as if trying out the name, trying to see how it rolls off his tongue. "It suits you."

"Does it now?" Harry asks, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

"Yes, it quite does. But I've also been calling you 'Curly' in my head though, so that kind of suits you more I think, because of that."

Oh this is fantastic. Harry's smiling so big now that his cheeks are starting to hurt. "You were thinking about me so often that you gave me a nickname?"

Louis freezes, and fishmouths. "I, uh, I wasn't - no, that's completely ridiculous, I mean - "

This is too great. Harry probably shouldn't be loving this as much as he is.

At this point though, Louis looks painfully embarrassed and slightly upset and oh no, Harry won't be having any of that, so he interrupts his rambling. "I think I like Harry better, to be honest," he says, still smiling widely, "I mean, really? Curly? You couldn't have come up with anything better?"

Louis makes a playfully affronted noise, and puts his hand on his chest. "Excuse me? I come up with the best nicknames, thank you very much."

"Yeah, if by best nicknames you mean...worst..."

Louis raises his eyebrows at Harry. "That was the most awful comeback I've ever heard."

Harry just chuckles in response. "I'm not really good at comebacks."

Louis laughs at this, and Harry finds the bubbling sound so beautiful that he can't help but join in.

"You know, you're really something, Curly," Louis says between giggles.

"Really? What kind of something? A good something, I hope."

Louis doesn't answer, just looks at him curiously with those beautiful eyes of his, before adjusting his glasses on his nose. He gets quiet again, the expression on his face almost regretful, as if he wasn't supposed to interact with Harry as much as he did, as if he were supposed to stay quiet and not speak and keep to himself.

Louis' a weird one, he is.

****

So, a part of this plan of Harry's is to not tell Louis he's writing about him. He wants to see how much he can find out without actually asking. A part of Harry thinks that if he just asked Louis to answer some questions for his psych assignment, he'd either downright refuse to participate - Harry can see his response now: "I barely even know you, why would you need to write about me?" - or his answers would be very vague and not substantial enough to give Harry things to write about. 

This way though, everybody wins. He gets a good grade on his assignment, and more importantly, he gets to be closer to Louis. He doesn't have to tell him, right? It's not a big deal, he wouldn't be too mad about it, right?

Yeah, probably right. Whatever.

Harry just really wants to be the reason for Louis' smile, if he's being honest. And as painfully cliche and stupid that sounds, it's nothing but the absolute truth. He wants Louis to be smiling all the time; anything that makes Louis sad should be banned forever. And ever. And then sent to Siberia, or Russia or something. Or maybe Antarctica, or Mars. Somewhere far away, where it'd never come back and never upset Louis again. 

Harry probably gets too obsessed, too fast. It's kind of a problem.

****

Harry's laying on his bed that night, spread out across it on his stomach with the notebook in front of him. His pen's uncapped, but is hovering over the paper instead of writing. 

He really doesn't know where to start. Or how to do Louis justice. Or what to even say, seeing as he still knows basically nothing about him.

He chews on his pen thoughtfully, and tells himself that he's thinking too much, and that he should just write. If he doesn't like it he can always start over.

So with a deep breath, he begins to write.

_Week One  
I don't know anything about Louis, or his family or his friends or where he's from or anything like that. I don't know what kind of music he listens to, or where he likes to go on holiday or what his hobbies are.  
What I do know, though, is that he is one of the most interesting people I have ever met throughout my nineteen years here on Earth.  
Louis is shy. Very much so. He seems like he's the kind of person who doesn't like being around people; he seems kind of anxious whenever people walk into our Shakespearean literature class, and he always ducks his head down low whenever they pass by. He's always immersed in this tiny little yellow notepad he has; he never stops writing in it. What he's writing about, I don't know. But it seems to be something extremely important to him, he hangs onto it like it's a lifeline.  
Louis is extremely attractive. I don't understand how people don't flock to him the way crazy fangirls do when they see their idol for the first time in person.   
He avoids eye contact as well as physical contact. He doesn't seem very partial to conversation, except when he talks to me sometimes. He told me that he lives with his roommate in a flat close by, but he's never mentioned anything about this roommate since then.   
I feel like there's a lot more to him than meets the eye, and that he has an extremely interesting past. It's possible that he is as reserved as he is because of something that happened when he was younger, which would be a psychoanalytical hypothesis. It's also possible that socioculturally, someone else, or a multitude of people, have somehow caused him to feel insecure with himself around other people.   
But all of that doesn't matter as much to me to be honest, all the fancy words and all the analysis.  
My goal here is to find out what Louis' really made of, the kind of person he is and why he is that way. My goal is for him to open up to me and for me to help him be as happy as he can possibly be, because I can genuinely say that I have never been so intrigued by another person in my entire life. Read from that what you will, professor._

Harry throws his pen down and sighs, rereading his entry. It's stupid, and short and it makes Harry's not-so-slight obsession with him blantantly obvious. There's not really much substance to it, but hell if he's going to sit down and rewrite it. 

Next time, he thinks as he yawns, next time he'll have more to write about. He'll make sure of it. 

He dreams about Louis that night, about Louis' crinkling eyes and bright smile and happiness.


	3. week two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where louis is broken, and all harry wants to do is fix him. uni au.

Harry concludes that it's definitely, absolutely fate when Louis walks into the Cafe Lorraine during Harry's shift.

He basically loses his mind and dies inside probably about 1,672 times.

Needless to say, he temporarily forgets how to function and Nick, one of the other baristas on duty, has to elbow him to get him to come back down to earth.

Louis' wearing loose gray sweats and a blue, long-sleeved shirt and he looks really very cuddly and soft and Harry can't handle this. It's one thing to see Louis looking like perfection personified in class; but it's a completely different matter when he's caught off guard. Not okay.

And of course, Louis' also holding his little yellow notepad, and Harry is overcome with this sudden burning desire to know what's written in it.

He adjusts the apron around his waist as Louis walks toward the counter. He's yet to see Harry; he's focused on the menu above Harry's head. Harry takes the opportunity to admire his sharp-cut cheekbones and the strong curve of his jaw.

Harry bites his lip. This is ridiculous.

Then Louis sees him and wow, Harry's well and truly screwed.

His mouth falls open a bit. Harry notices that he clutches the notepad slightly tighter in his right hand. Curious, that.

"Afternoon, Louis. What can I get for you?" Harry says, plastering a grin across his face. He's surprised he can speak coherently. His insides are a mess.

"Uh, hi Harry," Louis says quickly and timidly. "Could I maybe just get a small java chip frap please? No whipped cream."

Harry punches a few keys on the register. "That'll be $3.50."

Louis sets his notepad and phone on the counter as he digs in his pocket for his wallet. Harry's eyes instinctively dart to the yellow paper, and without even thinking about how wrong it really is, he starts trying to read it. He catches the words written at the top of the first page: This Mind is a Black Hole. He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

Louis quickly snatches the notepad back up again, and hands Harry the money, eyeing him suspiciously, as if he knows that Harry was snooping. So much for nonchalance.

Harry hands the order ticket to Nick, who starts making Louis' drink immediately. He pulls the receipt out of the register and hands it to Louis. "Nick will call your name when it's ready."

"Thanks," Louis mutters, before scurrying away to sit at a small table in the far corner, nearly hidden from Harry's view. Harry watches as he taps something out on his phone, before setting it down and flipping his notepad open and gnawing on the end of his pen. He glances upward and catches Harry's eye, and Harry quickly looks away, cheeks burning with embarrassment at being caught.

Even so, he peeks at Louis again about thirty seconds later, and Louis' writing, fringe hiding his face. Want burns throughout every fiber of Harry's being; it's absolutely insane, how one person can have such an impact on him.

It's also really, really stupid. And irritating.

He eyes the clock and sighs. One more hour until he's done for the day. He doesn't know how much of this he's going to be able to take. Louis can't stay in the cafe for that long, right?

****

Harry's ridiculously wrong. One hour later, an hour full of secret glances and admiration from afar, and Louis' still sitting in the corner, sipping on his little drink and squinting at his word-filled pages.

Harry undoes his apron when Ed walks in, tossing it to him. "Busy today, H?" Ed asks as he ties it around his waist. "Eh," Harry shrugs. "Not really." Ed sighs in relief. "Excellent, not in the mood to handle crowds today."

Harry just rolls his eyes before he pats Ed on the back twice and grabs his rucksack before walking out of the back room towards the front of the shop. "See you tomorrow, mate."

And then he's standing across the room from Louis, and then something happens and his feet act on their own accord, and then Harry's at Louis' table.

And then, he's speaking before he even realizes what he's doing.

"Mind some company?"

Louis looks wary. Harry's scared that he's mad at him, for peeking at his notepad earlier. "No, I guess not."

Harry considers that a success, internally fist-pumping as he sits down across from him. Louis, though, doesn't say anything, just goes back to writing, moving his arm over his paper so that the words couldn't be seen. Harry wants to know what he's scribbling across the page so passionately, but he also knows that it's not the right time to ask.

When Louis shows no sign of stopping, Harry decides to take out his calculus book and get going on his maths assignment, because why not? If Louis wants to do his own thing right now, so can he. 

Twenty minutes pass. Then forty. Neither of them have exchanged a single word.

By this time, Harry's on his last problem and he just can't fucking figure it out, and he wants to throw his book through one of the glass windows of the cafe.

"You look stressed."

Harry quickly raises his head to look at Louis, who has flipped his notepad shut and is now picking at a chocolate chip cookie, eyeing him thoughtfully. He doesn't seem mad or doubtful anymore, or irritated or anything, which Harry takes as a good sign, hopefully. Harry wonders how long he's been watching him like that.

He shrugs. "Just a little frustrated with maths, I guess. I'm so terrible at it."

"Calculus?"

"Yeah."

"I've already taken it, maybe I can help."

Harry's lips curve into a small smile as Louis stands up and walks over to Harry's side of the table, leaning over his shoulder to look at the problem Harry is pointing at. He reaches over to rest one hand on the book and his other hand on the back of Harry's chair, and when Harry looks up at him, he's silently mouthing the words on the page, squinting in concentration.

Harry feels like someone just set his body on fire, and left him to die. Louis is in such close proximity that Harry's heart is going double time, and he's legitimately afraid that it's going to rabbit out of his chest. 

"Oh my god, I hated these problems when I first had to do them, I thought they were impossible. My roommate Zayn taught me a trick though, you see, you have to first..."

And Louis' explanation is so simple and easy and makes so much more sense than Harry had ever hoped he could make of this lesson, and he's so happy that he could kiss him. 

He really, really wants to kiss him.

But instead, he opts for sending Louis a huge grin, who returns it with a happy, albeit smaller, smile of his own. 

Harry quickly finishes the problem, with Louis watching over his shoulder the whole time, and then finally, finally gets the right answer. "Victory!" he nearly shouts, throwing his hands up in the air and earning a chuckle from the beautiful boy standing behind him. Harry turns around in his seat and rests his hand gently on Louis' forearm, the first time they'd ever actually had any sort of physical contact. "Thank you Louis, you saved me hours of agony." His hand is tingling in a way that probably isn't normal.

"I'm sure you wouldn't have taken hours to figure it out," Louis mutters, not looking at Harry. His shoulders have gotten all tense, and he's looking at Harry's hand on his arm.

Harry snorts, moving his hand away from Louis to rake it through his curls. Louis visibly relaxes. "Oh trust me Lou, you have no idea. I have never met anyone in my entire life who's worse at maths than I am."

Louis rolls his eyes, but the expression on his face is almost fond, and Harry smiles. 

"I've got to be going," Louis says quietly as he picks up his notepad and his cookie. "Got lots of work to do, and that."

Harry nods, though he feels like his insides have deflated a bit, like his bubble of happiness has just been punctured. Even so, he smiles at Louis again. "Thanks for your help," he says softly, and Louis shrugs it off. "No problem at all. I, uh, I guess I'll see you."

Harry gives him a small, two-fingered wave as he walks out the door. Once he's out of sight, Harry sighs loudly, shutting his textbook with a loud thunk. He hears someone snigger behind him.

"So who's your new boyfriend Haz?" Ed's voice calls out to him from the counter, and Harry flips him off behind his back without even turning around, gathers up his things, and heads out into the cool night.

****

They don't have class together the next morning, but Louis comes to the cafe again in the afternoon. Harry resists the urge to squeal and jump up and down.

This time, he shyly asks Harry for a hot chocolate, and goes and sits at the same table as the day before and pulls out his little notepad once again. Harry's struggling to breathe at this point, and he has to remind himself that this doesn't necessarily mean that Louis came back to see him; he could've just come back because he likes the cafe or something. 

That doesn't make him less giddy though.

Nick is eyeing Harry out of the corner of his eye, smiling to himself and shaking his head fondly. "H, you're whipped."

"Shut up Grimmy."

****

It becomes routine, Louis coming to Cafe Lorraine in the afternoons. Harry also going to sit with him after his shift is over also becomes routine, and Harry mentally pats himself on the back when he sees that Louis is slowly relaxing around him. He doesn't even flinch or look surprised when Harry goes to sit at the table; he's started smiling at him actually, every time he walks over.

Harry considers this to be an enormous success and even thinks about throwing a party to celebrate.

Not that he'd even have more than five people to invite to a party at all, really, but that's irrelevant. 

After a few days comprised of Louis writing whatever it is that he writes all the time, and Harry trying to figure out his maths work, Harry decides to change it up a bit and write his next psychology journal entry at the cafe. Yeah, it might be a bit risky, writing with Louis not even three feet away from him, but he has to do it sometime. And for some reason, he finds the idea of writing about Louis while Louis is just sitting there completely oblivious extremely entertaining.

Harry titles the entry and writes down the date before glancing up at Louis. Their eyes meet, and Louis cautiously gives him a tiny grin that makes Harry feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

_Week Two  
It takes Louis an extremely long time to trust people. I don't even know if he trusts me to even be a friend to him yet and we've spent every day this week together.   
He's actually sitting right in front of me as I write this, completely unaware. It's amusing.  
His body language makes his discomfort in front of other people very evident. He tenses up and leans away. I don't know why.  
Recently though, around me, he's been doing all of this a lot less. Whenever I go up to him or try and talk to him, he's actually started smiling at me, but it took this entire week for that to happen.   
He has trouble opening up to people, I think. I haven't actually asked him, but that's what I've gathered, based off of what I've seen. I've never seen him with anyone else, he's always alone. When it comes to other people, he only ever talks about his roommate Zayn, which I said before.   
I feel like I'm getting closer, though. I will get to the bottom of this. He's mysterious and confusing and I want to know why.  
He's still always writing in that little notepad of his. I've rarely seen him without it. Actually, come to think of it, I've never seen him without it at all. Every time I've ever seen him, even in class, he's always writing. He's never talked about it though, and I haven't asked._

Harry adjsuts his feet under the table, and they touch something that he knows isn't the floor, or the table. It quickly pulls away, and Harry looks up at Louis, who's blushing. "Sorry, that was my foot," he squeaks timidly. 

Harry shakes his head. "Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be sorry for." He smiles at Louis, who gives him a small, close-lipped smile back. It's reserved, it's closed-off, it's slightly embarrassed, and it doesn't touch his eyes.

Harry wants the big smile though, the big, eye-crinkling smile that he's only really seen once or twice, the I-don't-give-a-fuck smile, the one where he knows that Louis isn't thinking about how he looks to other people or what he's doing or what's going on around him, isn't thinking about anything except for that one moment and that little tidal wave of happiness that washes up and takes over for a few seconds, before it retreats and disappears. The smile that makes his eyes glow golden around the edges and sparkle like clusters of stardust in the night sky.

He's watching Louis again now, watching how he's hiding his face from Harry as he adds another scribble to the yellow page in front of him. Harry doesn't like that. Harry wants to see every single bit of Louis' beautiful face, all the time.

 

_Louis doesn't smile very often, but when he does, it's the type of smile that's contagious, you can't help smiling when you see it. I would attempt to explain it, but words don't do it justice. It's something rare and something very beautiful. And I think he deserves to smile more often, and that more people should see that smile, because it'd bring joy to everyone around him, I'm sure of it.  
I don't even know his last name, for Christ's sake. I don't know what I'm doing. But I'm trying, and I'm not planning on stopping anytime soon._


	4. week three part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where louis is broken, and all harry wants to do is fix him. uni au.

_Sweaty palms, shallow breathing, shaky knees. Complete, utter mess; why do I even try?_  
This is all that has become of Harry's thought process as he walks over to sit by Louis in the cafe, per usual, the following Friday.  
Unlike that one Friday two weeks before, the day that Harry saw Louis for the first time, this Friday is absolutely not an ordinary day. This Friday is going to quickly become either one of the best or worst Fridays Harry has ever had in his entire life.  
Because today, Harry has decided to attempt the impossible.  
He wipes his shaking hands on his jeans as he gets closer. Louis glances up at him, and gives him a small smile and a nod in acknowledgement. He doesn't seem to notice Harry's evident nervousness. He has a textbook open and propped up in front of him, with "Microbiology, Immunology, and Molecular Genetics" written across the front. His little notepad is sitting off to the side, next to his cappuccino.  
Louis' wearing a maroon beanie today, and he has a little tuft of his caramel fringe peeking out of the front. His black-rimmed glasses look dark as ever, providing a sharp, square contrast against his soft features. He's grown out a bit of stubble that dots his chin and cheeks which, again, provides contrast against his otherwise delicate face. It's all so different and interesting and beautiful, Louis is so, so beautiful, and Harry can't breathe.  
He sinks into the chair across from Louis at the table, and let out a tiny, barely audible sigh. Louis' eyes are on him, and they're light and warm and open. "Hey Curly," he says the way that he always does, in his soft voice, jokingly but with a hint of uncertainty, as if he thinks Harry could be the bearer of some sort of bad news.  
"Hi Lou. Um. I." His voice shakes. He's pathetic. "I was just wondering if, maybe we could talk for a sec? I mean, only if you're not too busy." He gestures with a timid hand at Louis' textbook.  
Louis' expression is curious. "Nah, I was just getting ahead a bit." He shuts the book and slides it into his satchel without looking away from Harry's face. "What did you want to talk about?"  
"Uh." Why oh why did Harry decide to do this? "I was wondering if, uh, if you were busy tomorrow night?"  
Louis freezes.  
No, literally. He isn't even blinking.  
Shit.  
When Louis finally responds, he looks very wary and very unimpressed. Harry is, needless to say, terrified beyond belief. "I'm-I'm not doing anything, no..."  
Now, does Harry continue on and even ask, or just leave it at that and change the subject?  
Louis' eyes aren't warm and open anymore; they're cold. His blue irises look like they've been cracked open with sharp, gray streaks.  
So Harry opts for the latter.  
"Oh, okay," is all he says, before he hastily ducks down to pull his calc book out of his rucksack, hiding his face from Louis. Tears prick at his eyes as he bites his lip. Be a man, Styles. At least you tried.  
 When he straightens up, Louis' still watching him.  
Then.  
"Why?"  
His tone is sharp. Harry is going to piss his pants.  
"Because, I wanted to ask you if you, like, wanted to maybe hang out with me?"  
Harry refuses to make eye contact. He's flipping his book open to no specific page, he's just messing around with it, to have something to do with his hands. He really doesn't know what he's doing.  
Louis doesn't say anything.  
"Really, if you don't want to, it's fine," Harry mumbles, staring blankly at the page he stopped on. Graphing Polynomial Functions, it says. Fun.  
After a beat of silence: "Oh. Um. I just, uh. Well. I'm sorry. For, you know, being kind of...weird...for a second there."  
His voice is soft again. Harry dares to sneak a glance, and sees that the ice in Louis' eyes is thawing.  
"No, I mean, no that's okay."  
Uncomfortable silence consumes the table.  
"So," Louis says, breaking it, "You want to hang out?"  
Harry hesitates. "Yeah."  
"And, like, do what exactly?"  
Harry swallows thickly, his throat dry. He, with his impossibly stupid brain, is unnecessarily dissecting that very simple sentence in ways that shouldn't be thought about at this moment in time because yes, he is, in fact, in public and statements like that, whether unintentional or not, should not be allowed. There are far too many things he'd like to answer that question with that he knows would get him slapped in the face and possibly kneed in the balls maybe, or something of the like.  
"Like, grab some food, walk around Westwood, you know. I've only been here for a few weeks, and since you've already been here a year, I was thinking maybe you could show me around a bit? The best places to eat and explore and that."  
Louis visibly relaxes. "Oh."  
"Would that, like, be okay with you?"  
Louis looked slightly taken aback. "Oh, uh, yes, yeah of course, I just thought you were like - I mean - I thought you meant that - no, uh, yeah that'd definitely be okay."  
"So...yeah?"  
"Yeah," Louis says softly, giving Harry a small, close-lipped smile.  
His heart swells like one of those enormous fucking balloons on parade floats.  
****  
Okay. So.  
Millions of thoughts are running through Harry's mind as he's getting ready on Saturday, around twenty minutes before he's due to leave to pick up Louis.  
It's not a date. Harry knows it isn't, and he knows that Louis absolutely, positively doesn't want it to be. He's assuming that Louis originally thought he was asking him on a date, and that that's why there was so much antagonism on Louis' part.  
The thought is really, really depressing. But that doesn't mean Harry can't still try to change that with everything he's fucking got. Harry Styles has never been a quitter, no sir.  
Now, why did that happen? Why was Louis so against the idea of going on a date?  
Yeah, okay it could definitely be because he didn't want to go on a date with Harry, but Harry's already considered that possibility.  
He and Louis don't know each other at all. They've only seen each other for a little over what, two weeks? And literally all they've done is homework and things like that in the cafe, or just sat next to each other in class. They haven't even talked that much. But even so, Harry knows that that much hostility couldn't have just come out of nowhere. If the only reason were because he didn't like Harry in that sense, Louis would've been more uncomfortable than angry, yeah?  
That's just Harry's theory, at least.  
There's more to this. And Harry's so, so interested in Louis and in everything about him, and he wants to know why. But he has a feeling that he won't find out anytime soon.  
Harry ties a bandana around his head, pushing his hair back underneath it as he thinks about all of this, and he immediately feels so much better. He hates it when his hair gets in his face.  
He's basically ready to leave. He's got his black jeans on, the really tight ones that make his legs look good (so sue him if he wants to look hot in front of the guy he has a massively childish crush on), and a simple white scoop-neck tee, with the sleeves rolled up above his shoulders.  
He goes to tie on his black leather boots, the silver ring on his right middle finger glinting in the lights in his dorm as he does so. He smiles; he really, really loves that ring.  
His mum gave it to him before he left. She knew about his obsession with rings (because yes, that's a thing, Harry's literally has over fifty of them. He's completely obsessed. Harry obsesses over a lot of things... ahem, Louis), and she wanted to add something to his collection before he left for uni. It's a very simple, not too thick band, but when he takes it off, there are three tiny cursive words engraved into the metal on the inside, the side hidden away from everyone but him: "Hope, Love, Dream." There's a tiny little infinity sign carved on either side of the quote.  
Harry never takes it off. He's so incredibly fond of it, and he feels like there's a lot of truth to be found in it. It's an honest ring, with nothing but happy thoughts and intentions lying beneath its surface, on the underside. It's just as pure on the outside as it is on the inside, and that is exactly what Harry aspires to be. It's a ring that holds all of his emotions and thoughts and secrets, it holds all of his memories and his future and everything in between. It's symbolic, to him, of his new freedom, of independence, of him going off on his own to live in another country all by himself; of him being left to make his own decisions and carve his own life story into the earth, the way those three beautiful words are carved into the metal on his finger.  
So yeah, Harry maybe gets emotionally attached to inanimate objects sometimes, what of it?  
He always has been the type to get attached to things, to wear his heart on his sleeve, though. Everyone always tells him this, constantly. Some have called him too emotional, but his mum always told him, when he was younger, that being emotional is okay, and that it doesn't make him a bad person.  
But what his emotional-ness has done for him, however, is allowed him to get weirdly attached to this beautiful, perfect, unreadable person who doesn't even want to go on a date with him.  
Fan-fucking-tastic.  
****  
Harry's been waiting outside Louis' apartment building for fifteen minutes. He had texted Louis to come down when he got there, but Louis hadn't responded. And Harry's getting impatient.  
After a few minutes of internal debate, he finally decides to get out of the car and go on up to Louis' flat and knock on the door. That wouldn't be too weird, right?  
Maybe?  
In Louis' text, he said that he and his roommate live in in apartment 1A. Harry walks down the line of doors until he finds it, and then raps on the door.  
After about a minute or so with no one opening it, Harry contemplates knocking again. He's just lifting his hand to do so when the door swings open.  
He was expecting Louis. He gets someone else.  
There's a boy standing there in front of him, with tan skin and jet black hair, which is carefully styled into an artful quaff. He has large hazel brown eyes, framed with dark eyelashes. His cheekbones are perfection, no, his bone structure overall is absolutely perfect. And he's squinting and tilting his head at Harry, examining him as if Harry's a horse, and this boy is the buyer.  
God, if this is Louis' fucking roommate, then Harry's not going to have any chance at all.  
Then, a thought occurs to Harry. Louis' never actually told him if he's single or not; what if he's dating this beautiful creature? This boy belongs on fucking fashion magazines, there's no way Harry could ever compete with that.  
He's now extremely angry. And depressed. But more angry.  
Harry and the mystery boy are silent. Harry can practically feel the tension surrounding them.  
Then, the boy speaks. "Harry, right?"  
Harry's eyebrows shoot up. Two things. One: this boy's British also, and two: he knows Harry's name?  
"Uh, yeah," is all he can say in response, not wanting to get too friendly with the competition.  
The boy nods, then sticks out a hand for Harry to shake. "I'm Zayn, nice to meet you. Come on in."  
Oh, right, Zayn. Louis' roommate who helped him with calculus. Who is also potentially Louis' boyfriend/fuck buddy.  
Louis may have forgotten to mention to Harry, when he told him about Zayn, that Zayn has one of the most scientifically perfect and beautiful faces that have ever existed in the history of the universe. And that's really irritating.  
Harry follows Zayn into his and Louis' flat. It's surprisingly very clean, not a stray pair of socks or boxers in sight.  
"Lou's getting ready, he'll be out in a bit."  
"Oh, okay. Yeah, I texted him when I got here, but he didn't respond, so that's why I thought I'd come up here?"  
Zayn doesn't acknowledge Harry's statement. Instead, he just looks him up and down. His face is blank. "Harry, sit down."  
Harry sits on the couch cautiously. Is this going to be one of those talks where Zayn tells him to stay away from his man?  
Zayn sits down across from him and eyes him curiously. Then, "Harry, you seem like a decent guy."  
Harry shifts uncomfortably. "Thanks?"  
Zayn again disregards Harry's response. "I've been Louis' best friend since we were in primary school. We grew up together."  
So he's not Louis' boyfriend?  
"And lots of things have happened since then, you see. And Louis' changed. He's sensitive, and..." Zayn stops and sighs. "He's in that fucking bathroom right now, freaking out about this because he hasn't actually hung out with anyone other than me, Liam, and Niall in over a year."  
Harry's eyes feel like they're going to pop out of his head.  
"I don't want anyone, especially you, making him feel worse about himself. You actually do want to spend time with him, don't you? This isn't some sort of sick joke you're playing for whatever reason?" His tone is very calm and even. He doesn't sound angry exactly, but he is completely serious, and it's slightly frightening in a subtle way. Harry feels very much like those one of those boys in the movies who goes to the girlfriend's house to take her out, but then is stopped by the girlfriend's father because he wants to have a "chat" about how he'll murder the boy if he hurts the girl. Seriously, when did his life become such a fucking cliche?  
"What? Why would I do that? And what do you mean, 'especially me?'"  
Zayn rolls eyes. "Do you not see it?"  
"See what?"  
Zayn is about to answer when the sound of a door opening carries out into the living room. Then, Harry hears Louis' soft yet currently distressed voice: "Zayn, I can't get it just right, will you-Oh."  
His eyes widen and his cheeks flush when he sees that Harry's in the room. Harry's grinning like a fool, he can't help it; just seeing Louis has him feeling fuzzy inside.  
"Sorry Lou, I should've told you that Harry was here," Zayn says, and Harry had actually almost forgotten that Zayn was even there until he spoke. Zayn's piercing gaze is still trained on Harry, and Harry feels uncomfortable, like Zayn is analyzing his every move and reading his every thought.  
"Uh, no, yeah it's fine, uh, sorry Harry, did I keep you waiting?"  
Harry shakes his head. "Nah, don't worry about it Louis."  
Louis' wearing tight blue jeans, rolled up past his ankles, and a dark red shirt, with The Doors' logo across the chest. His hair is neatly tousled (is that even a thing that people use to describt hair? Harry doesn't know how else to explain it), and he's not wearing his glasses.  
He's not wearing his glasses.  
 "You're not wearing your glasses," Harry says suddenly, and wow he really needs to learn how to stop doing that.  
Louis' staring at the ground. "Yeah, I'm not. Contacts, you know."  
Harry doesn't know what to say. Louis looks positively stunning, but. Harry really loves his glasses.  
"Is...is that bad?" Louis asks hesitantly, looking almost scared and panicked.  
Harry's heart hurts. "No, no not at all!" he says quickly. "You look...you look amazing. Really."  
Louis' cheeks become the same shade of red as his shirt. "Oh. Um, thanks."  
There's more silence. Harry still doesn't know what to say.  
"Alright, little ones," Zayn pipes in, and again, Harry had totally forgotten he was there, "I think it's time for you to go. Louis, don't stay out too late! Be home by curfew!" he jokes, smirking, and starts pushing them towards door.  
Louis narrows his eyes at Zayn and reaches out to playfully punch his shoulder, but Zayn dodges it, chuckling and lightly smacking Louis on top of the head. At this point, they're outside, and Zayn gives them one last grin before promptly slamming the door in their faces.  
And then there were two.


	5. week three part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where louis is broken, and all harry wants to do is fix him. uni au.

Harry is extraordinarily confused, for a number of reasons. The most prominent of these would probably the fact that he's usually really good at figuring out where he stands in relationships, but he legitimately has no idea what this even is. 

Is he on a date? Why'd Zayn give him that pep talk beforehand? Why is Louis not wearing his glasses?

He wants to ask, but maybe that wouldn't be the best idea, judging from what happened the day before at the cafe.

But wow, he really wants this to be a date. He literally wants nothing more in this moment than to take Louis on a date, a real one, where he holds his hand and cuddles with him and gives him that awkward first kiss that everyone has. He wants that.

So now, as they're walking to Harry's car, Harry is burning with questions and wants and nerves. He needs to talk, to get out of his head.

"So Lou, Zayn said you guys have known each other for a long time?" Yeah, it's a stupid question, but Harry's desperate. 

"We've been best mates forever, we've literally done everything together."

Jealousy and resentment curl inside of Harry's stomach. This is his chance, to find out about any history the two of them could've had in the past. His eyebrows nearly shoot off the top of his head. "Erm. Everything, as in, everything?"

At this point, they've already gotten in the car, and Harry has paused in starting the engine, waiting on Louis' answer.

Louis looks at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Then, realization dawns on him, his mouth rounds out into an "o," and his face turns beet red. "Oh my god, no, that's not - no, just no, not at all. That's not my - that's not what I meant."

Harry just nods, trying to hold back the triumphant smirk that's threating to spread across his face, and starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot. His heart is fluttering in his chest. "So, you guys aren't, like, dating?"

Louis shakes his head furiously. "No, never. We're not - we've never been like that." Louis actually looks slightly disgusted at the thought, and Harry's positively gleeful now. Take that, Zayn.

"Oh, okay. Cool."

Louis just presses his lips together and nods, and then after a couple of minutes it's awkward, and this is what Harry was afraid of. 

"So, where to? You're my tour guide for the day, tell me what we're doing."

Louis starts, as if he was in a trance that was broken as soon as Harry spoke. "Right, yeah um take a left here, and then a right at the second traffic light."

"Yes sir," Harry says, turning the steering wheel with one hand as he salutes Louis with the other. Louis giggles. Harry wants to simultaneously laugh, cry, vomit, and explode, because Louis.

Harry follows Louis' directions, and then, once they are on the street of their destination, Louis points to a large building with a huge red sign. On the sign, in bold, white lettering, it says "IN-N-OUT BURGER," and above it is a bent neon-yellow arrow. 

Harry tilts his head slightly to the right. A burger restaurant? That seems...simple. Oddly so. But Harry really likes it. Not really somewhere that Harry, personally, would want to take someone on a first date, but he likes it all the same.

"It's usually kind of hard to find parking," Louis says softly, "You might have to drive around a bit."

After a few minutes of circling, Harry finds a spot, and the two hop out of the car. 

The walk to the restaurant is short. Harry watches Louis out of the corner of his eye as they go. Louis doesn't look at him once.

"So," Harry says. "What exactly is In-n-Out Burger?"

"Oh right! I completely forgot to explain why we're here!" Louis exclaims, his face lighting up. "Right, so, you wanted me to show you around Westwood? You haven't really seen Westwood, or California at all for that matter, if you haven't been to In-n-Out. In-n-Out is an absolute must here, we practically live on it. It doesn't exist back home. There's not one single place that you can find one of these restaurants, other than the west coast. And shit Harry, I'm telling you, these are some of the most amazing burgers I've eve had in my entire life. Legendary. You'll see what I mean in a bit."

This is the most excited that Harry has ever seen Louis, and Harry loves it all, loves how Louis' eyes seem to get brighter with each word, loves how he just radiates beauty when he speaks. 

Louis is so completely impossible that Harry doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

"I can't wait then," Harry responds, grinning down at him. He then nearly walks into a pole, because he can't focus on anything but Louis. He then realizes that he actually just put Louis over his own safety, and that's when he thinks that his priorities might be a little skewed at this moment in time.

Oh well.

When they walk in, the line is so long that it almost reaches the door. 

"Woah, there are so many people here!"

"There always are. That's not surprising though, In-n-Out is the best of the best."

Harry turns to face Louis. "You really like this place, don't you?"

Louis nods eagerly, his expression comletely sincere. 

Huh.

"What do you usually get?"

"Just a cheeseburger."

"Okay then, I'll have that too. I want to see what's so magical about In-n-Out."

"You will." 

****

They're sitting in red chairs, at a little white table next to a window. Louis' watching Harry expectantly.

"What?" Harry asks, smiling at Louis' eager face.

"Eat!" Louis pushes the red tray with Harry's burger and fries towards him. "I want to see your reaction!"

Hahrry rolls his eyes fondly. "You're weird, Louis Something. I would say your last name, but I don't know it."

"Tomlinson."

"Oh. It suits you."

"Does it now?" Louis retorts, quirking an eyebrow and smiling.

Harry smirks, feeling some very strong deja vu coming on, thinking back on one of their very first conversations. "It does. Though, in my mind, I've named you quite a few things, and none of them is Tomlinson."

"Really? You've been thinking of me enough to give me not one name, but multiple? Do tell, Harry Something-Because-I-Don't-Know-Your-Last-Name-Either."

"One, don't steal my bits, because I said all of that first. Two, Styles."

"Styles?"

"My surname. Styles."

Both of Louis' eyebrows popped up this time. "Wow. Proper name you've got there. Harry Styles. Sounds like a name that would suit someone famous, like a pop star or summat."

"Thanks?"

Louis shrugs. He pushes the tray towards Harry again. "Eat."

"Pushy pushy. I didn't know you were so bossy. Are you always this demanding?"

"Demanding? Me? Never."

"Pity. I quite like you when you're demanding."

Louis' eyes widen, and his already pink cheeks go red when Harry winks at him.

Harry's positively giddy.

He picks up his cheeseburger and takes a massive bite, and then oh yes, he's in love. Harry groans in appreciation, and he sees Louis get even redder. 

"This is fucking amazing," he says after swallowing. Louis still looks a bit frazzled, but his expression becomes triumphant. "Told you so," he says happily before digging into his own burger.

And yeah, sitting there with Louis, eating hamburgers, Harry's happy.

****

"Come on!" Louis calls out over his shoulder as he runs around a corner.

Harry sighs. He hates running. Just. Ew.

But, it's Louis, and he's excited and open and letting down his guard a bit, so Harry braces himself and jogs after him. He's already out of breath by the time he reaches Louis, who is waiting under a tree planted into a square of dirt on the sidewalk. "This," he pants, pointing to himself, "Is a one-time thing. I don't run, and I'm never running again, not even for you."

"Not even for me?" Louis repeats, smirking. Harry wonders when quiet, shy Louis became so bold and flirty. His personally did a complete 180. It's weird, but, he likes it. He likes it a lot.

They're less than a foot apart now, and Harry's towering over Louis, closing in. "Not even for you," he breathes.

Louis leans in a bit, and then Harry leans in a bit, and then Harry thinks something's going to happen and his heart starts going mad again and then-

Louis sticks his tongue out at Harry before taking off, running away and cackling.

Harry groans. Fuck running.

"Nope!" Harry shouts after him. "I'm going to walk and take my time, thank you very much!"

"Don't be a lazy arse, Harold!"

"It's Harry, actually!"

"Whatever!"

And Louis' grinning at him over his shoulder, and even from this distance, Harry knows that his eyes are sparkling, and that's enough to get Harry running again. He's not just jogging this time though; he's sprinting down the street, weaving through couples and families and students, sidestepping plants and strollers to get to Louis, who is now leaning against a wall, watching Harry amusedly. 

And when he finally does, he crashes into him without thinking about it, gathering Louis up into his arms and holding tight. 

The most surprising thing, though, is that Louis doesn't tense up, doesn't tell him to stop, doesn't push away. 

He melts into the embrace. He laughs, and wraps his arms around Harry's waist, gripping tight. "Lost control there?" he asks breathlessly, looking up at Harry with his startlingly blue eyes.

Harry takes a little longer to respond than usual, and he smiles down at Louis in awe. His eyes are endless, Harry's sure of it. "Yeah, a little bit."

****

So something's happened in the past hour, that has turned Louis into an unapologetic maniac.

Okay, so maybe that's quite an exaggeration. But still.

Louis is just everything. He can be quiet and shy when he wants to be, but he's also loud and funny and turns heads everywhere he goes, he's bold and confident and brilliant, and Harry thinks that Louis doesn't even quite know that about himself yet.

"Diddy Riese," Louis breathes, pointing up at the sign a little ways away. 

"Diddy Riese?"

"Cookies!" Louis says excitedly. "The best cookies!"

"Everywhere you're taking me has to do with food."

"Your point?"

"Is that all there is to do here? Eat?" Harry asks teasingly. 

Louis shrugs. "Probably not. But eating is the only thing that really matters, so."

If Harry had any doubts about Louis before (he didn't), he definitely doesn't now, because this boy is a foodie just like him and Harry wants to keep him forever.

As they get closer, Harry notices the line. "Another line?"

"What'd you expect? The best cookie place in the world isn't going to be empty, Curly. Duhhh."

Harry then decides to take a risk, because why the fuck not?

He reaches out to hook Louis' pinky with his. He figures, it's not outright hand-holding, so it wasn't too bold. It was subtle, but meaningful.

Louis looks down at their joined pinkies with a blank look on his face, and then faces forward again, saying nothing about it, but swinging their linked fingers as they walk.

And Harry thinks his heart is going to explode. 

****

"I, uh, I had a really great time tonight."

So cliche. Why does Harry even try. 

Louis laughs nervously. "Yeah, so did I."

They're standing outside of Louis' apartment building. Harry got out to walk Louis to the stairs that lead to to the gate, which opens onto a hallway of all of the different flats. He doesn't think he's going to go so far as to walk Louis all the way back though. He doesn't fancy another encounter with Zayn.

"Thanks, for showing me around and all. You introduced me to some pretty great food."

Louis laughs genuinely this time. "Glad to be of service. Knowing where to get good food is the most important thing when visiting any place, I think."

Harry smiles. "You're adorable," he says softly, and then he realizes what he said, and then he wants to dig himself a ditch and hide in it for the rest of his life.

Louis, though, simply blushes and looks down at his feet. After getting in the car to leave earlier, Louis went back to his shy, quiet self. Another curious thing to note about Louis Tomlinson. 

"I'll see you later?" is Louis' only response. He's looking up at Harry hopefully through his fringe, and who in their right mind could ever say no to a face like that, even if he had wanted to?

"Yeah, definitely. We should do this again sometime."

Louis smiles, and bites his lip. "I'd like that."

After a quick pause, Harry takes a step forward, and then hesitates, gauging Louis' reaction. Louis is rooted to the spot.

He wraps his arms around Louis tightly, and Louis returns the hug a bit more hesitantly than he had before. 

When they pull apart, Louis gives Harry a small wave before starting up the steps. When he's about halfway up, Harry remembers. 

"Hey, Louis?"

Louis turns to look over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"You didn't bring your notepad today."

And then, it's like a switch goes off in Louis' body. His eyes go dark, his expression becomes guarded, his shoulders tense up, and his face goes a bit red. Harry is, to say the least, very surprised.

"Yeah, I didn't," is all Louis says, before quickly running up the stairs and slipping through the gate without another word.

****

_Week Three_  
Note to self: Never, ever bring up the notepad again. At least, not until a bit later, maybe? If he starts to open up a bit more?  
Maybe.  
It's weird, really. One minute, Louis was totally open and happy and even a bit outgoing, and then the second I mentioned his notepad, he totally shut me out.  
Very interesting indeed.  
I'm slightly terrified out of my mind that maybe he kind of hates me now, because I said that. I'm really hoping not. I can't stop thinking about it, about his facial expression. It was really, really angry; I'd never seen him that angry before.  
Needless to say, I'm really upset.  
I thought I was gettng somewhere with him too, we went for dinner and spent time together and it was so much fun, and he's such an amazing person. He was so bold and happy and loud, the total opposite of his shy self.  
Now I've gone and fucked it all up. Typical me.  
I'm not writing anymore. I'm too anxioius to write, I can't think right now. I'll do more later, maybe. Not.  
What if he doesn't ever want to talk to me again?  
I'm an idiot.  
The worst part it, though, is that I think I'm falling for him. And he hates me.  
Why am I even telling you this? You're my professor.  
Yeah, I'm delirious. I'm done. 

_P.S: Tomlinson. His last name's Tomlinson._


	6. week four: part one

"I'm sorry."

Harry turns around, incredulous. "Sorry?"

Louis is standing above him, looking earnest and worried and anxious. He's looking Harry straight in the eyes, not concerned about the other students in the room who may be watching, or about how class is going to start at any second.

He sets his textbook on the tabletop before dropping his rucksack and sinking into his seat, not taking his eyes off of Harry once. 

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry's eyes are going to pop out of his head. Why's Louis sorry?

Harry's the one who was a dick about the notepad. He was the one who intruded upon Louis' personal space. Louis has nothing to be sorry for. 

Harry's frozen, unable to think or speak or anything. He's scrambling for something to say, but before he can come up with anything, the professor enters the room.

The nervous light in Louis' eyes dims, and his shoulders droop. He looks at Harry for a few more brief seconds, his expression just sad, before turning his back on Harry.

Harry's heart is splintering into millions of jagged pieces. God, why couldn't he have come up with something to say? Why couldn't he have thought faster? Heat burns in his cheeks.

He's fucking angry. He's so angry with himself, because now Louis' upset and won't even look at him. Louis doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve this at all. Louis deserves nothing but happiness, and now Harry's gone and made him sad. 

He doesn't know what to do. He can't focus on the lecture, because Louis' slouching beside him. 

After a disgustingly long period of time, the class finally ends, and Louis quickly jumps out of his seat and practically runs toward the door. 

"Louis, wait!" Harry calls after him, leaving his books and things on the desk behind him.

Louis turns the corner into the hallway, and is walking even faster now. Harry starts running. He catches up to Louis and darts in between him and the door out of the building. Louis sighs. "Harry, I've got to go, so if you could please..." he doesn't finish hs sentence, voice fading, and just gestures toward the door. 

Harry reaches out for him, and gently takes his hand in his. "Louis please..."

Louis pulls his hand out of Harry's grip and tries to step around him, but Harry moves with him and doesn't let him out. 

"Hear me out."

Louis crosses his arms. "Look, you obviously don't want to talk to me anymore after my weird freak-out on Saturday night. So, just let me go, and I won't bug you again, I promise."

"Oh my god, that's -- Louis, what are you -- no, just no. That's -- that's not what I want at all. Just listen to me."

Louis hasn't moved. He continues staring at the ground. 

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Louis' eyebrows pop up, but he's still staring at the floor.

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have asked about your notebook. It was obviously none of my business."

Louis fidgets a bit, uncrossing his arms and glancing up at Harry quickly before looking away. 

"I'm not upset with you," Harry says softly, thinking that it's safe enough to move away from the door now and taking a step toward Louis. "And I definitely don't think you're weird."

Louis adjusts the backpack straps on his shoulders. "I just - I can't, Harry." His voice cracks. "I just can't."

"Louis, you don't need to tell me or anything. I swear, I won't feel bad. It's obviously not something I need to know about anyways."

"No, but Harry, I should, because -- I just -- I have to --" Louis pauses, then scoffs and looks away, a twisted smile appearing on his face as his eyes start to fill up with tears. "I don't know, I just don't know. I'm sorry."

Harry's eyes widen as he watches Louis cross his arms again and bite his lip. 

"No, Lou, don't -- just -- c'mere." Harry slowly pulls Louis into a hug, and Louis doesn't respond at first, keeping his arms crossed tight across his chest. But when Harry doesn't pull away, Louis relents, wrapping his arms lightly around Harry's waist and squeezing gently with his little fingers.

The whole thing does funny things to Harry's stomach.

He pulls away slowly. "So we're good, yeah?"

Louis sniffs quietly and nods, giving Harry a small smile -- a real one this time. "Yeah, okay."

"Good," Harry says softly back, "Come with me back to the room so that I can grab my things, and then we can go get lunch or something maybe?"

Louis shifts uncomfortably. "Erm, are -- are you sure?"

Harry rolls his eyes fondly and laces his arm around Louis' waist. "Of course, you dolt. Come on." He lets go and starts walking, looking back periodically to make sure Louis' following.

And they go, and Louis slowly starts smiling more, is less closed-off.

Needless to say, Harry feels much, much better. 

****

"Doyouwanttocomeover?"

Harry blinks at Louis. "Huh?"

Louis fiddles with the pen in his hands, and Harry takes a sip of his coffee. They're at their usual table at Cafe Lorraine, after Harry's shift, and Louis had been curiously silent for most of the thirty minutes they'd been sitting there. "I said, do you, erm, do you want to come over?" He's blushing furiously.

A slow smile spreads across Harry's face. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, definitely, Lou! Just to hang out, or whatever?"

Louis nods, face reddening by the second.

"I'd love to! When?"

"T-tomorrow, maybe? Tomorrow night at, maybe around, uh, s-six?"

Harry's grinning now, and is nodding so fast that his neck may snap in two. "Definitely, definitely!"

"Uh, I have to tell you something though..."

"Yeah, go for it!" Harry's speaking very quickly, but he can't help it, he's just so excited. 

"So, you remember Zayn, y-yeah?"

"Of course, how could I forget Zayn?" If Harry's smile gets a little forced here, well, oops. 

"Uh, right, well, he told our friends Liam and Niall about you, and, like, they all want to hang out with you. I guess."

Harry's posture stiffens slightly. "Uh, okay? Why?"

"Because...well, just because." Louis' sentence is nearly unintelligible because he mumbles it so quietly.

"Oh. Okay."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"No, I want to! I really do, I swear."

"No, seriously. I was just warning you that they were gonna be there, because, they're just...they can be kind of strange. I didn't want you to be caught off-guard or anything."

"I want to come over, Louis," Harry says a bit more forcefully. "Don't worry about it."

"...You sure?"

"Most definitely."

Louis puts his pen down and leans back in his seat. "Okay...don't say I didn't warn you..."

Harry smiles slowly. "Sometimes, Lou, I get the feeling that you're trying to scare me off."

Louis scratches the back of his neck and doesn't say anything.

"Don't you know by now," Harry says softly, leaning forward, "that it's not going to work? You're well stuck with me."

Louis looks up and smiles at this. "Am I really?" he says jokingly.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Damn," he says under his breath, eyes glittering amusedly. Harry sticks his tongue out at Louis, putting on a calm facade to cover up the fact that his heart is absolutely pounding.

They want to meet him.

Fuck. 

****

Harry is sitting in his car, and right now, he's supposed to be on his way to Louis'.

He's drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the keys sitting in the ignition.

He should probably start the car, shouldn't he?

"Fuck," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

What if Louis' friends hate him? Do they think that he and Louis are dating? If so, does Louis think that they're dating too? Why hasn't Louis told him, then? Should he talk to Louis about this?

He really, really wants to be dating Louis. 

Christ, if Zayn was one of the most intimidating people Harry's ever met all by himself, then what are Liam and Niall going to be like? And then, what about the three of them together? Fuck.

Harry has a feeling that this isn't going to go well for him. They're all going to hate him and then Louis won't want to be friends with him and everything will be well and truly fucked, and then Harry will become an old jaded cat lady forever and ever.

He checks his watch. It's 5:50. It'll take about fifteen minutes to get to Louis'.

Does he leave now, or wait a bit more?

Well. It's now or never, and that. Right?

He sighs heavily and starts the car, with the ongoing mantra of "Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck," echoing through his mind. 

****

"Right then," Harry mutters under his breath, and oh god he's talking to himself, what's become of him?

He steels himself and knocks on the door, and as he waits, he hears an unintelligible shouting -- Louis' voice, he's pretty sure -- and then a mixture of people talking, followed by a crash and an extremely loud cackle.

Harry takes a small step back. 

A few more moments later and the door swings open, and Louis' sheepish face peeks out at him. "Hi Harry," he squeaks, stepping aside and gesturing for Harry to come in. 

Harry just grins and pulls him into a hug first, and Louis seems a bit taken aback. "Oh, uh, hi there," he squeaks again.

"Hi Louis," Harry says, smirking as he pulls back, before walking into the house.

"I'm sorry in advance," Louis mutters as he shuts the door behind him. 

Harry turns back to face him. "What for?"

Louis grimaces and shrugs, leading Harry into the living room. The first thing Harry notices is that it's much less clean than the last time Harry came over; popcorn is strewn across the table, two or three half empty beer bottles and crushed soda cans sit on the side tables, and there are couch cushions and random pillows all over the floor. 

And then Louis sees Zayn, sitting in between two other boys on the large couch in front of the television. He's snickering at something that someone said when suddenly, he makes eye contact with Harry and stops, and the other two boys spin around to face him so fast that he's surprised they don't get whiplash. 

"That's what for," Louis says to him quietly, and Harry nods slowly, looking the three boys up and down as they do the same to him. 

After an awkward silence, Louis clasps his hands together. "Right. Well. Harry, this is Liam." He points to the boy sitting on the far left, who, now that Harry gets a good look at him, looks rather like a David Beckham and Justin Timberlake hybrid. His massive arm muscles are straining against the tight fabric of his long-sleeved shirt, and fuck, why are all of Louis' friends so irritatingly attractive? Seriously, how is Harry ever going to fit in with this group? They're like a pack of models, all of them.

Especially Louis.

Before Harry can pity himself too much, Louis continues. "And you've met Zayn already, you two remember each other." 

Zayn gives him a nod. "Sup man, how you been?"

Harry shrugs, and smiles at him. "Been alright, you?"

Zayn smiles back, flashing his alarmingly white teeth, and Harry's heart sinks, because pretty. Ugh. "Yeah, alright."

"And this is Niall." Louis points to the last boy, who's thinner than the other two. He's got blonde hair and is grinning up at Harry rather goofily, and Harry can see the bright blue of his eyes from all the way across the room.

God, fuck this shit. Why are really hot people always friends with other really hot people? Harry's getting rather nervous now, even more so than before.

"Good to meet you man," Niall says as he stands up, holding a hand out to Harry for him to shake. Harry, feeling rather strange and formal, takes it. "Zayn told us about you and Louis' date a few days ago."

"Niall," Louis says through his teeth, desperation in his eyes.

"Okay, okay, sorry, I meant, the not-date." He rolls his eyes. "Or whatever it was."

Harry laughs awkwardly. "Yeah, that. It was, erm, it was fun." He scratches the back of his neck. 

They all just kind of stare at each other for a bit, before Louis claps his hands together again. "Alright, well, uh, Harry, would you like something to drink?"

"Uh, I-"

"Great! Come with me to the kitchen!"

Louis grabs him by the hand and pulls him away, three pairs of eyes following them the whole way.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," Louis says breathlessly the second the kitchen door swings shut behind them.

"Why is it that I feel like all we're doing, recently, is apologizing to each other?" Harry says with a smirk, leaning against the countertop.

Louis chuckles, looking at Harry with a touch of anxiety in his eyes. "I don't know, it's -- well, they're just weird, and they're awkward. It's not my fault though, I just wanted to have you over and hang out with you anyways, and when I told them I was going to have you over, Zayn went and told Liam and Niall all about you, and then they insisted on hanging out with us, and ugh."

Louis had wanted to hang out with him? Just the two of them? 

Harry's heart starts beating faster. This is amazing.

"Honestly, don't worry about it at all. I don't mind. But I do want to hang out with you, as in, you only. Because, last time was really fun and all."

Louis smiles shyly. "Yeah, it was. So, erm, we'll do that then, like, soon?"

"Of course Lou. Can't have you get too eager to hang out with me, you might have a heart attack or something."

Louis snorts. "A heart attack? Why would I get a heart attack?"

Harry pushes himself off the counter and takes a few steps towards Louis, gently taking both of his tiny hands in his. Louis' smile widens. "Because, you'd be Harry-deprived. It's a serious medical condition," he says in mockingly stern tone.

"Is it now? Are you sure it isn't just another failed attempt at making a witty joke?"

Harry scoffs, affronted. "My jokes are always witty, sir. Don't even go there."

Louis rolls his eyes fondly, and squeezes Harry's hands lightly. 

"I do have a quick question, though. In all seriousness," Harry continues, leaining in closer to Louis, still smiling.

"Fire away."

"Erm, why exactly did Zayn feel the need to tell Liam and Niall all about me?"

Louis just stares at him, and Harry stares back. Harry hadn't asked in an irritated way, he honestly didn't mind at all that Zayn said whatever he said to Liam and Niall. He just wants to know why.

"Uh, sorry? What..what exactly are you asking?" Louis says, fidgeting.

"Well, I mean, I'm just curious. Is this what they do with all of your friends, or?..."

Harry really hopes he can get some sort of answer out of Louis. Friends? More? Less? Is being "less than friends" even a thing? Who even fucking knows?

"Um."

Louis stops there. Harry blinks at him patiently. 

"Louis?" a voice calls from the living room, and Louis jumps. "Hey, let's go back now, yeah?"

He lets go of Harry's hands, spins around, and walks through the door without even waiting for Harry's answer.

Harry sighs. So close.

He follows Louis through the door, and sees Niall fiddling with a game controller, "FIFA" swirling around in bolded letters on the TV screen behind him. "Hey Harry!" he calls out happily, and Harry's taken aback with the sheer happiness and excitement of his tone -- the complete opposite of what Harry had walked into upon his arrival.

"Wanna play?" he holds a controller out to Harry, and Harry smiles, still kind of surprised. "Yeah, sure. I'm kind of shit at this game though, so..."

Niall snorts. "So's Louis mate. Honestly, you can't possibly be worse than him."

"Hey, I heard that!" Louis turns around from where he'd been talking to Liam quietly. Liam's staring at the floor at the moment, scratching the back of his neck. Zayn is nowhere to be seen. 

Niall shrugs, grinning back at him. "It's only the truth babes."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. Babes? Uh. No.

Louis' answering grin to Niall deepens Harry's frown. "You're just afraid that I'll beat you again."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

Niall opens his mouth to respond when Zayn walks into the living room from what Harry assumes to be an adjoining bedroom, staring intently at two take away menus. "What do we think, lads? Chinese or Italian?"

"Italian!" Liam and Niall shout simultaneously, and Harry's surprised. Liam speaks?

Liam's eyes are on Harry when Harry turns around to get a quick look at him, and his gaze feels judgemental. Harry uncomfortably turns back around to face Zayn, heart sinking. God, they're going to hate him, aren't they?

If they don't already, that is.

"I'm feeling like Chinese, actually," Louis says before dropping down onto the loveseat, arms and legs sprawled lazily around him. 

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking too," Zayn says, and then he finally looks up from the menus and faces Harry. "Well, Harry? You're the tiebreaker, what'll it be?" His gaze is soft, and he's smiling, and Harry suddenly feels much better. "Erm, I'm fine with either, honestly."

A chorus of "No!"s fills the room, the loudest of which comes out of Niall's mouth, and Harry jumps, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. Fuck, did he already piss them off? He's so fucking dumb. 

"Don't be like that, mate!" Zayn says loudly, jokingly angry -- Harry can tell by the way his mouth is scrunched funny, like he's trying not to smile, and the way the light is dancing in his eyes. Harry relaxes slightly. "You have to pick one!"

"Oh..."

"The clock's ticking! I'm starving!" Niall says, without turning around, from where he's crouched by the TV monitor, squinting at something or other and adjusting the settings so that they can play the game. 

It doesn't help that Louis' watching him expectantly, with those ocean eyes of his. 

"We're honestly fine with either one, man," a quiet voice speaks up, and Harry whips around to see Liam smiling at him tentatively. "Just pick."

Harry feels himself let out a huge breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. "Oh. Okay. Well, I think...." He looks over at Louis again, who's pulling the puppy dog face, and he rolls his eyes, smiling all the while. "I think Chinese sounds good, actually."

Zayn clasps his hands together. "Excellent choice, Mr. Styles! I like you. I say we keep him, lads."

Louis smiles widely at this, and Harry smiles because Louis' smiling.

"I second that!" Niall shouts, from where his head is now completely behind the monitor for a reason unknown to Harry, "But only because he's Louis' favorite!"

"Niall," Louis groans, cheeks flushed, and Harry grins, biting his lip and staring down at his scuffed boots, knowing that he's most likely blushing even harder than Louis. 

Liam's now watching Louis carefully, eyes so full of concern that Harry's surprised that he can even see straight. Even so, he adds a quiet, "Yeah, why not?" and turns to offer Harry another careful smile, which Harry returns.

The rest of the night goes well; or, better than how Harry thought it'd go, at least. It's pretty fun, and Zayn and Niall seem to warm up to him well enough, though, he's a bit unsure about where he and Liam stand. 

But, that doesn't matter as much. He can talk to Louis about that later. 

What matters, is, he feels like he's almost completely got the lads' blessing. And fuck, Harry's definitely going to take it.

****

_Week Four_  
Louis forgave me for the whole notebook incident. Thank god. I don't know what I would've done with myself.  
I went to his house this week, and met his friends. They're great guys, they really are. They just...seemed a bit strange at times, to be honest.  
The last time I saw Zayn, he said something about how Louis going to hang out with me was the first time Louis' hung out with anyone other than him, and Louis' other two friends, Liam and Niall, in a really long time. And I never really got an explanation to that, and I thought maybe he was just being weird or playing some kind of joke. But when I went over to Louis', they were all acting like I was some alien, some sort of outsider. And then I thought that maybe he had been telling the truth.  
They were hovering around him all night and glancing at me out of the corner of their eyes. Like, they were nice enough and everything. Not like they were rude to me, or anything like that. They just seemed...protective. And Louis seemed kind of annoyed with it.  
Though Zayn and Niall were extremely protective at first, they let up as time went on. I think they like me...or, at least I hope they do. Liam, though, is a completely different story. He wouldn't budge. He kept looking at me, like I was going to do something bad at any second. He was still really nice, but, I don't get it. But I don't want to ask Louis about it, because that could end up like the last time I asked Louis something...really, really badly.  
They're a really close-knit group. You can practically feel the closeness between them in the air, just by being in the same room as them. There were many times where I saw them just looking at each other for a long time, and like, nodding or something, as if they were having silent conversations around me. I felt like I was intruding on their like, flow, or whatever. Their friendship-bond-thingy.  
They were judging me. A lot. They were literally watching my every move at first, like they were just waiting for me to slip up. And whenever I'd talk to Louis, whoever was nearest him would tense up and face us, like they thought I was going to...well, I don't know what they thought I was going to do. Whatever they were thinking, it wasn't good. And I was so on-edge. But, like I said, they relaxed after a while, and it was all good.  
Well, except Liam.  
I can't really put it into words, I don't know. But, I'm really confused. And Louis hasn't texted me since. So I don't really know what happened.  
But, by the end of the night, I felt good. Like, maybe they liked me, for the most part.  
I want to know why Louis has such protective friends, and why they were trying to get a read on me. I just...I don't really get it. And I feel like that's all I've been saying this entire entry, but it's true, I really don't. I fucking want answers, god damn it. I'm sick of being confused.  
I just don't know. 


	7. week four: part two

Once Harry leaves, Louis slams the door shut.

"Guys, what the fuck?!"

Niall just blinks at him, shoving a spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream into his mouth. Zayn continues flipping through channels on the TV as if Louis hadn't spoken, and Liam just picks at his jumper guiltily.

Louis crosses his arms and waits. One of them will crack eventually.

After a minute or so, Liam shifts around on the couch. "You can't blame us for being worried, Lou," he says quietly, and Louis groans in frustration. "Actually, I can."

"Oh really?" Zayn says accusingly, shutting off the TV. "And why's that?"

"Because you guys were acting so weird, and you completely freaked him out! He probably thinks I'm crazy now!"

No one says a word.

"Come on guys," Louis says exasperatedly. "It's been a while, since Chad. You didn't have to do this."

Zayn laughs bitterly. "Don't mess about Lou. Honestly."

"I'm not joking, Zayn!"

"Have you told Harry about it yet?" Niall asks suddenly, and Louis shakes his head furiously. "I haven't told him anything, honest. I don't really want him to know, not yet at least. It's...it's not important."

"Louis," Liam says quietly, eyes shining with sincerity. "That boy...what he did to you..."

"Let's not talk about it," Louis interrupts harshly.

"No, I think we have to talk about it Louis. You were dating him for two whole years, man. Come on. You can't tell me that you're just going to forget everything, dump it all away by trying to get with this one? You're better than that."

"No, I'm-I'm not -- just -- ugh," Louis groans, rubbing his face with his hands. "You guys don't understand."

"We understand Lou," Zayn says, still sprawled across the couch. "We understand perfectly. We just don't want you to, you know, go back to...that."

Louis sighs, and plops down onto the couch next to him. Zayn leans into him, resting his head on Louis' shoulder. "I don't want to go back to that either, Z. But all I wanted was to hang out with him. Is that really so bad?"

Liam hesitates before he answers. "No," he says in a weird tone. "But...you haven't actually wanted to hang out with anyone since...before."

"But Harry's different."

"And that's exactly what worries us," Zayn says, sitting up again. "We...we wanted to see how you act around him, what kind of person he is, how he is around you. And that's why we wanted to stay. This is the second time you've actually made plans to hang out with him, Lou. Not once, but twice. That's...that's different, because, like, it's been so long. And, well, if he were just a new friend to you, then we obviously wouldn't be having this conversation."

Louis stands up and backs away from the couch, crossing his arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Zayn stands up too, facing Louis. Louis feels like he's being cornered.

Zayn turns back to look at Liam, who nods. Zayn faces Louis again, and opens his mouth to say something, but then sighs and just shrugs. "You tell us, Lou."

"There's nothing to tell!"

Niall leaves the room, going into the kitchen to most likely refill his ice cream bowl. Liam raises an eyebrow, giving Louis that look of his.

Louis' mouth hardens into a thin line as he gives Liam a look right back. Hell if he's going to back down.

Liam huffs, taking a step back. "Suit yourself," he says softly. "We just want to help."

Louis drops his arm to his sides, shoulders relaxing. "I-I know. I just...you guys have been on my back for a while now. And I know you're just trying to protect me. But. I think...I think I can handle this one."

"You're sure?" Niall interjects from where he's leaning on the wall next to the kitchen door. His expression is blank and his features are hardened.

"Yes, I'm sure. I...I trust Harry."

"What if he goes and breaks your heart? Or worse?" Zayn says, not making eye contact with Louis. He's staring at the floor, eyes devoid of emotion.

Louis' breath hitches in a quiet gasp, his heart picking up speed in his chest. "He's...he's just a friend. He can't break my heart," he says weakly and unconvincingly.

"Yeah, right. You're not fooling anyone, Louis, we all see it," Zayn says gently, still not looking at him. "I saw it the first time, when you were freaking out about going out with him. And like, you've already started writing in your notebook, about all of-"

Louis blanches, absolutely horrified. "How do you know about that?"

Zayn's eyes widen, and he gets a guilty look on his face.

"Zayn, were you fucking snooping through my stuff?!"

"It was for your own good! You hadn't been writing so much in a while, and then out of nowhere, writing was all you were doing...I just wanted to see why you started again. It had been a while."

"How could you do that to me?! That writing is mine, I wrote it and it's for my eyes only, not yours!"

Zayn fishmouths, before finally looking into Louis' eyes. He looks so guilty and upset that Louis almost feels bad about getting angry. "I know. It was stupid of me, and I'm sorry."

They're silent for a while before Liam speaks.

"I don't know if I trust him, Lou," Liam says, and wow, tears are pricking at Louis' eyes now, and he's so frustrated with himself for it. He's just so angry, so frustrated, he just wants them to understand.

"Okay, listen. I know that the whole Chad thing was a huge deal. And, I don't blame you one single bit for being concerned. But I am so sick and tired of hiding, of not letting anyone in! Ever since Chad, which was like, a year and a half ago, I've honestly not had an actual conversation with anyone but you three and my mum and sisters." His voice cracks, and a tear sneaks its way down his cheek. He hastily wipes it away, sniffling before he continues. "And I'm sick and tired of it. And Harry...Harry makes me feel...not pathetic. You know? He...he actually wants to talk to me, wants to hear what I have to say. He's nicer to me than Chad ever was, and doesn't have a single bad bone in his body. And he makes me feel like maybe I can get better, maybe I can be the same again. He doesn't know about anything that's happened. He doesn't pity me like everyone else does. He treats me as an equal. And that means the world to me."

"That's great and all, it really is, but the Chad thing wasn't just a 'huge deal.' You didn't leave your room for weeks! You weren't eating, you weren't sleeping, you weren't showering! You....it was a rough time for you. And we don't want to have to see you like that again, because it hurt us Lou, it really did." Liam's tone softens toward the end of his sentence, and his eyes get wide and gentle. Louis' biting his lip hard now, in an effort to hold back his sobs.

"I know it did, and I'm sorry. But I've learned from my mistakes. And I'm not going to let that happen to me again. It's about time that I get my shit together. I don't need to be babied anymore, and I can make decisions for myself. I trust Harry."

After another long moment of silence, Niall walks over to him and claps him on the back before sliding his arm around Louis' shoulders. "I believe you kiddo," Niall says, "And I'm proud of you. We're just trying to look out for you is all."

Louis nods, not trusting himself to be able to speak without bursting into tears.

"Please don't cry, Louis," Zayn says quietly coming over to give Louis a hug around Niall's arm. "I believe you too. And, I was kind of harsh earlier, but honestly, I really do like the kid. He doesn't seem too bad, he's decent enough. And, to be completely honest with you, he couldn't take his eyes off of you all night, and he was so nervous...I feel like all he wanted to do was please you. He looks at you like you've hung up the moon and the stars. And that's the only reason that...that I'm okay with this. Him. And you liking him."

Louis just looks down and wipes his face.

"I still don't know," Liam says, turning his back to the other three boys. "I trust you, Louis, and your opinions, but. I don't know."

Niall pulls his arm back and plops down onto the couch. "I'm willing to give him a chance."

Zayn looks Louis in the eyes for a few seconds before nodding too. "Same."

Liam clenches his jaw, not meeting Louis' eyes. But then, he sighs in defeat. "Fine. Sure, I guess. But only because you could see, like Zayn said, that he cares about you. That much is obvious. Just... be careful, yeah? You never know what could happen..."

Louis scurries over to give Liam a hug, whispering words of thanks into his shoulder, unable to let a few tears escape as he does so. When he pulls back, Liam is smiling at him with nothing but fondness in his eyes. And then he thinks about how much he really owes Liam, and Zayn and Niall too, for being there for him back then, when no one else was.

He had been naive and stupid and really loved Chad. So, so much. And things were good for such a long time. But then the arguments started, and they were beyond terrible. Chad never held back. He said some pretty awful things, and Louis, of course, took it all to heart. And then, to top it all off, on the night after one of the worst arguments they'd ever had, Louis had walked in on Chad snogging another guy.

The worst part, though, was that Chad didn't even try to make excuses. He didn't even apologize. He just stared at Louis coldly, and fuck, it hurt.

Needless to say, his heart was shattered. No, shattered was an understatement. He was completely and utterly broken, all happiness torn out of his body and obliterated.

It was a dark time. He'd never felt more worthless and unloved in his life. Most of his friends stopped talking to him, either because they took Chad's side or because they didn't like being around someone as depressed as Louis had been. They hadn't wanted to put up with him anymore.

But, of course, Liam and Zayn and Niall stayed, and they helped him pick up all of the pieces. Even now, when he had the occasional nightmare or when the bad feelings came back, they were there to hold him, to keep him together.

He owes them, really. And the least he can do is be careful, like they said. He doesn't want to have to put them through all of that again.

Day by day, he got better, and is continuing to do so. Talking to people is still hard though, and trusting them is even harder. The anxiety comes back, he always gets this feeling that every person he talks to, every person who tries to be friendly with him has an ulterior motive, and just wants to make fun of him or hurt him, like Chad.

But with Harry, from the very first time he ever spoke to him, he just....he kind of forgot about all of that. He just let go, and went with Harry's banter and it just felt so right. And at first, he thought that was dangerous, that he could slip and allow for Harry to trick him, to use him, to hurt him like everyone else. Someone as attractive as Harry just coming up to him and wanting to talk to him, wanting to be around him, wanting to hang out with him out of nowhere was definitely not normal. He thought that it had to be some sort of joke.

But then, after a while, that started to change. After getting to know Harry a bit more, he started to realize that Harry's genuine. Harry's real. And, Louis started getting more comfortable with trusting.

Well, trusting Harry at least. Because Harry's not like the others.

Whether this is a good thing or just a foolish mistake, Louis doesn't know. And at this point, he doesn't fucking care anymore. He's done with being afraid.

But somehow, especially when Harry texts him, saying thank you for having me over, I had a lot of fun with you. you're amazing xx, he feels like he's making the right decision.


	8. week five

"So. Louis. I've been thinking."

"Hmm?"

"Um. I've been thinking. About...things."

"Okay..."

"And I was just wondering...if. Um. If, maybe, you'd want to. You know. Go on a date? With me? At some point?"

Nick snorts. "You're gonna have to do better than that, H."

Harry groans in frustration, facepalming with both hands -- yes, not just one hand, but both. 

Obviously, Harry's quite stressed. 

"Nick, I don't know how to say it. Help me figure out how to say it."

"Haz, all you have to do is ask him. I see you two flirting with each other every single day at that little table over there" -- Nick points to Harry and Louis' usual corner -- "and it's clear that you're gone for each other. You don't have to fucking practice on me, of all things."

"But I have to get it just right! I can't have it come out wrong and get rejected!"

"It won't come out wrong, I promise. All you have to do is ask him. I'm absolutely, positively, 200% that he'll say yes. Who could say no to that face?" Nick says the last part teasingly, pinching Harry's cheek. Harry swats his hand away, still distressed. 

"He's going to reject me. I know it."

Nick sighs. "You're overthinking this," he sing-songs, adjusting his apron and picking up a rag to wipe down the counter with. 

"Am not!"

Nick pauses in his cleaning to give Harry a look, and Harry just rolls his eyes. 

"Nick, I can't do this. I really can't do this. I don't think he likes me, I don't see it."

"You must be blind then, mate. It's pretty fucking obvious to me."

"But how do I know that you're not just trying to be nice because you're my friend, or -- "

Harry's interrupted by the tinkling of the shop's bell, signifying that a customer's just walked in. Nick wiggles his eyebrows at Harry, a stupid smirk on his face. "Mr. Styles, I do believe that a customer is going to be in need of your assistance very soon. No time for chit chat."

Harry sighs, giving Nick a glare. "This conversation is not over," he hisses before walking over to stand behind the cash register. "Hello," he says to the middle-aged woman coming up to the counter, plastering a fake smile on his face. "Welcome to Cafe Lorraine. What can I do for you?"

****

"He's going to be here any minute."

"Yes, yes he is."

"And I'm going to fall over or throw up or something like that, probably."

"I'd say that's highly unlikely."

"And he's going to reject me."

"And that's even more unlikely."

Harry's pacing rapidly and eyeing the large clock on the wall opposite, ticking in a way that absolutely unnerves himl. Ed will be here in about five minutes or so when Harry's shift is over, to take his place. And when Ed gets here, Louis gets here. And when Louis gets here, Harry's supposed to ask him out. 

His stomach ties itself into knots at the mere thought. 

"Harry, you do know that you don't have to do this now. Right? No one's forcing you to ask him out."

"No, I know that. It's just...I want to. I really, really want to."

Nick's smile softens, eyes getting a sympathetic gleam in them. He whacks Harry on the shoulder with the handle of the mop he's holding before dunking it into the water bucket next to him, and proceeding to wipe the floor behind the counter. "I just don't want you pushing yourself, kiddo. Just remember, there's always tomorrow."

"There's always tomorrow for what?" someone says suddenly from somewhere behind Harry, and Harry whips around to see that it's Ed, apron already tied around his waist as he pushes into the shop via the employee back door. 

"Oh, Harry's planning on wooing the love of his life today," Nick says nonchalantly, as if Harry hadn't been having anxiety attacks over this all day.

"Is he now?" Ed says quietly in an equally casual way. Harry sighs heavily, untying his own apron and tossing it at Nick. "Twats," he mutters at the both of them before going around to the customer side of the counter. He makes his way toward his and Louis' usual table, lowering himself into his seat with shaking hands. Get it together, Harry. Remember what Nick said. 

Just then, his phone buzzes in his pocket. 

Upon pulling it out, he sees that he's got a text from Louis, and his heart starts going double time. 

hey :) was thinking about changing it up today. i'm waiting in the parking lot of the cafe, come outside? x

Harry thinks he's swallowed his tongue. 

"Hey," Ed calls out across the cafe from where he'd been whispering something to Nick. Thank lord the shop's empty. "Y'alright Harry?"

It takes Harry a moment to respond. 

"Um. Yeah. It's just, he texted me, and he's asking me to meet him in the parking lot? Instead of staying here today, like usual?"

"Then what are you doing sitting there? Go outside and get your man!" Nick says as he adjusts his almost obnoxiously large glasses. 

"But, guys, this isn't normal. We always study here at this time. Why is he changing the plan? I like the plan."

Ed rolls his eyes. "Fuck off, H. Go to him. Sometimes, different is a good thing." Nick nods in agreement.

Harry swallows thickly, standing up on shaky legs. "O-okay. Um. Wish me luck."

"I would, but you don't need it. You've got this, Haz," Nick says without even looking up.

Harry gives both Nick and Ed a hesitant smile, before making his way over to the door, the cool night air hitting him square in the face as he steps outside. He can see Louis leaning against a small, beat up red car a little bit away, and Harry smiles to himself because it's such a Louis car.

Harry loves it.

At that moment, Louis looks up and sees him walking out of the shop and pushes off the side of the car, giving Harry a small wave that Harry returns. 

Louis gets into the drivers seat, and he's started the car by the time Harry gets inside. He starts the engine without saying a word, and pulls out of the parking lot.

Harry watches Louis for a bit, admiring his sharp profile -- all cheekbones, and freckles, and tan skin. His glasses are sliding down the bridge of his nose, and Louis pushes them up with one tiny hand as he makes a left turn with the other. His lips look pinker than usual, and his collarbones are peeking out of the scoop-necked dark red t-shirt he's wearing.

Harry's decided that red is his favorite color on Louis.

Louis then turns to glance at Harry, and his eyes sparkle a bit when they make eye contact, the corners of his lips tugging upward into a smile. 

Fuck, any color is his favorite color on Louis. Every color. Anything, actually. Or nothing, probably. 

Yeah, nothing would definitely work too.

Harry now realizes that Louis' watching him expectantly, eyebrows raised, as they're stopped at a red light. He jumps in his seat. "Sorry, did you say something?"

Louis snorts as the light turns green, and faces the road again. "I asked you if you were okay. You seem...distracted." He glances at Harry here, something knowing flashing in his ocean eyes. Bastard.

"Oh yeah, I'm totally fine. Fantastic, actually."

"Lovely."

"Yeah."

They're silent for a bit before Harry remembers that he's not entirely sure where they're going. 

"Louis, I'm not entirely sure where we're going."

"And your point is?"

Harry blinks at him. "Um. Well. My point is, where are we going?"

Louis shrugs. "Somewhere new."

"New?"

"Yeah. It's so new, actually, that I don't even know where it is meself."

After a few more beats of silence, both Harry and Louis burst into laughter.

"You don't know where we're going?" Harry asks once his giggles have subsided. 

"Nope," Louis says, lips popping on the "p' in such a way that Harry can't help but feel a jolt of desire course through his veins, a want to have those lips pressed against his. "I just wanted, you know, to do something different, something spontaneous. Instead of sitting at the cafe and studying again. I'm pretty sick of studying."

Harry snorts, forcing himself to look away from Louis for fear that he'll do something he shouldn't. Like reach for his hand, which is resting on the gearshift. Or confess to him his massively humongous crush. Or something of the like. "I hear that."

They settle into a comfortable silence after this, the only noise being the muted sounds of cars around them and the low hum of Katy Perry on the radio. 

"Hm, I kind of want something to eat. You hungry?" Louis asks then, as he stops at a stop sign. Harry grins at him. "Food again? Gosh, Lou, if all we do every time we hang out is eat, you're going to make me fat."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Can't have you losing that figure of yours now can we? That's what pulls in all the ladies."

Harry makes a gagging noise. "I'm not quite fond of vagina, thanks."

"Oh?" Louis says in such a way that Harry knows he's prompting him to continue.

"Yeah, I prefer blokes myself. Thought you'd figured that out already, though, considering. Well. Everything."

Louis glances over at Harry, eyebrows raised. "Really? What makes you say that?"

Harry's breath is caught in his throat. This is his chance. He can tell him that he likes him, as more than a friend, and that he wants to take Louis on a date. He can tell him that all this time, he's been flirting with Louis mercilessly, that he's been trying so hard to make his crush on Louis obvious.

He's ready to say it, to ask and get it over with. But what ends up coming out of his mouth is, "I don't know, actually."

Louis nods. "Hm," he says thoughtfully, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and gnawing on it with his teeth. 

Harry swallows thickly and forces himself to look out the window, when Louis speaks up again.

"Yeah. Um. I am. Too."

Harry gives Louis a questioning look, so Louis elaborates. "I'm, like, gay also. Is what I meant."

Harry grins at Louis. "Oh I already knew that, Louis."

Louis gasps in a playfully affronted way. "And what's that supposed to mean, Harold?"

Harry giggles. "I'd say your cuffed jeans gave it away, to be honest."

Louis smacks his arm. "You stereotyped me?!"

Harry giggles again. "Well, I was right, wasn't I?"

Louis pouts, and Harry laughs outright this time. "I'm just kidding. I've just got a particularly good gaydar. I just kinda knew."

Louis gives him a half smile. "Sure, sure."

"I'm serious!"

Louis just smirks, and turns into a parking lot of an ice cream place. "Time to get fat, curly."

Harry mock-groans as he gets out of the car, and nudges Louis' side as they walk inside together and get in the fairly short line. They're laughing by the time it's their turn to order, and Harry keeps poking Louis' cheek as he's trying to tell the woman what he wants. Louis finally gets fed up and grabs Harry's hand in one of his own to stop him, lips pressed together in an effort to not burst into laughter while ordering.

And he doesn't let go. 

Harry's cheeks are warm and his smile is big as he points with his free hand to the flavor he'd like -- strawberry is his favorite, and Louis makes fun of him for it because according to him, "it's chocolate or bust" -- and Louis pulls Harry along as they move up the line. 

As Louis goes to pay while still not letting go of Harry's hand -- and resisting Harry's protests too ("I'm the one who asked you to come with me, Harry, so I'm paying") -- the cashier smiles at the two of them. "You guys make a really cute couple, you're absolutely adorable together."

And, cue the bubble-burst.

"Oh. Um," Louis stutters, dropping Harry's hand. His cheeks are bright red and his eyes are wide, and Harry tears his gaze away from Louis' face to stare at his feet. "We're not -- we're not together. Or dating. Or anything."

This time, it's the cashier's turn to blush. "Oh, I'm sorry, it was my fault. I shouldn't have just made that assumption, I -- forgive me," she says so rapidly that Harry almost doesn't catch it. 

Louis doesn't respond to her, getting his receipt and grabbing their ice creams, walking over to the small green table closest to them and sitting down.

It's so, so uncomfortable, and they're spooning ice cream into their mouths in silence, and Louis won't look at him. And Harry's really upset about it. 

He thinks it's time.

"Louis, about what she said -- "

"I know, it was my fault for holding your hand. Sorry for making you uncomfortable," Louis interjects, blushing and stirring his blue plastic spoon in his ice cream. 

"No, that's -- that's not what I was going to say."

Louis doesn't look up.

"Um. I've been thinking."

Louis glances at him now, confused.

"I've been thinking about. Things."

Louis gestures for him to get on with it. 

"And, like. I just." Harry legitimately thinks he's going to vomit. "I, um. I like you. A lot. As in, more than a friend."

The plastic spoon in Louis' hand clatters onto the tabletop, smudging chocolate all over its surface. Harry has the sudden urge to grab a napkin and wipe it off, but no, he needs to do this.

"And, I've liked you for a while now. Ever since I met you, actually. And I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to...um."

Louis' eyes are so wide that Harry's afraid they might pop out and fall into his ice cream.

"If you'd want to go out. Sometime. With me. Like, on a date. Because I like you. And you're just, really cool. And pretty amazing too. So. Yeah."

Louis takes a deep breath, blinking rapidly and straightening up in his seat. "Oh. I. Um." He's staring at the table, opening and closing his mouth but not saying anything.

Harry's going to throw up.

After an agonizing second or two, Louis breaks out of some sort of trance and continues. "Actually, I. Um. Me too. I mean, I like you too. In that way. And I think...I think I'd quite like going on a date with you, Harry."

Harry's face breaks out into a grin so wide that he thinks all of his teeth might just pop out of his mouth, the way old peoples' dentures do in cartoons and things. "Yay. Great. I mean, um." Harry clears his throat. "Yeah. Cool."

At that moment, Harry hears someone squealing behind him, and turns around to see the cashier watching them with a huge smile on her face. When Harry looks at her though, she jumps, flushing. "Sorry, sorry! I just couldn't help it, I wasn't listening in purposely, it's just -- you two were right there, and I was right here, and. Oh my gosh, you're both so cute. Sorry. So you're going to go on a date now? Oh my gosh, why am I asking, I shouldn't be. Sorry. I don't mean to be nosy, it's none of my business."

Harry turns around to Louis, grinning, and sees that Louis' cute little face is all pink, and his lips are pulled into a bright smile with those crinkly eyes, a smile so bright that Harry's heart falters. He reaches out for Louis' hand, and takes it, softly squeezing Louis' fingers in his, and then turns back to the cashier and throws her a wink. She squeals again.

Harry smiles as he watches Louis peek up at him through his fringe, smiling so wide that it's like the sun is shining. Harry often thinks that Louis' got the sun in his eyes, that his eyes shine brighter than the sun, actually. 

Louis' gorgeous.

And Harry gets to take him on a date.

****

_Week Five  
I'm taking Louis on a date. A fucking date.  
I can't write right now, I'm far too happy for words. He's perfect. That is all. Goodbye._


	9. week six: part one

Okay, so my date with Louis is in a week. And in all honesty, I think I might be freaking out so much that I'm going to permanently be worried and anxious. Forever. And ever. For the rest of my life.  
This is insane. And I don't know what to do. So, I think I'm going to do what I never thought I'd ever do, not in a million years: I'm going to call Zayn, and ask him for help.  
It seems that Zayn, Liam, and Niall are the only people that Louis trusts. And if Louis trusts them, then I trust them too. Updates to come. 

Harry shuts the notebook with a sigh. When did this journal project turn into a blog of sorts, on which he talks about his feelings?

But, it doesn't really matter anyways. Really. It doesn't. It's not like the professor's going to actually look at everything that everyone's written, right? The class is like, three hundred people. There's no way. So, might as well write about interesting things, right? Like Louis' face. And Louis' smile. And Louis' hair. And Louis' scruff. And Louis.

Harry groans, head falling into his hands. He's going to fail this assignment.

****

Getting Zayn Malik's phone number is a complicated task. 

Harry doesn't know how to go about it at first. Does he sneak a peek into Louis' phone? No, that'd be an invasion of his privacy. Does he sneak into Louis' home and find Zayn himself? No, that'd be even more of an invasion of privacy. 

It's not until Louis texts Harry about something or the other, mentioning that Zayn's out with his girlfriend, Perrie Edwards, that it hits. 

Harry knows Perrie. They're in a creative writing class together. He can totally ask her for his number. 

But then he'd have to explain why, wouldn't he? And he's not sure if Louis' okay with people knowing about their date?

Does it even matter? Is Harry overthinking this?

Yes, and definitely. 

So, walking into his creative writing class the next day, he decides to get it over with straightaway.

"Hey Perrie," he says, sitting next to her. Perrie smiles at him. "Hi Harry! How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thanks. I had a question for you, actually."

Her eyebrows pop up. "Oh?"

"Yeah, erm, you're -- you're dating Zayn Malik, aren't you?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I was wondering if I could have his phone number."

Perrie stares at him for a few seconds, during which Harry stares back. It's an anxious time.

Then Perrie shrugs. "Okay," she says simply, and pulls out her phone, writing Zayn's number on a shred of paper and handing it to Harry. "Anyways, did you finish the narrative due this Friday? I haven't done a thing!"

Harry takes a bit to respond, because -- wow, that was easy.

Okay. Step one complete.

****

"Hello?"

Zayn's voice is curious, and Harry's heart is absolutely pounding. He hopes Zayn can't sense his nervousness somehow, through the phone. "Um. Hi Zayn. It's Harry."

There's a pause. "What?"

"Harry. Harry Styles? I'm -- I'm friends with Louis?"

"Har-?"

"Don't tell Louis it's me on the phone!" he says suddenly, thinking that it's probably the fastest sentence he's ever uttered in his life. 

Zayn pauses. "Why? How'd you get my number?" he asks suspiciously. 

"Perrie gave me your number, and because I'm trying to surprise Louis on Saturday."

"Saturday? You know Perrie?"

Harry rolls his eyes, trying not to smile at how confused Zayn sounds. "Yeah, we're, um. We're going on a date. I asked him, actually, so. Yeah."

"W-what?!" Zayn sputters, and Harry's nervous again. He coughs. "Yeah."

There's a very long pause. Harry removes the phone from his ear to check and see if the line's disconnected or something. It isn't. 

"Date? You two? Date?"

"Yeah."

Another pause. 

"O -- Okay," he says hesitantly. "Date. So, why do you need me to surprise him?"

"No, I don't need you to surprise him. I just need you to help me surprise him."

"How so?

"Well, I want to make a good first impression, and stuff. And, I want to know what he likes, so that I can take him somewhere nice. Suggestions?"

"Oh!" Zayn seems relieved, and almost kind of...happy. "Well, for starters, taking to a nice restaurant or summat would make him happy, but, that's kind of boring."

"Is it? Because I have no idea what to do."

"Yeah. I'll tell you what you should do. I know this great place that I've been to once or twice, and I told him about it but he's never gone there. He'd love it though, I swear. So basically, it's a..."

And as Harry listens, his smile gets wider and wider until it's taken over his entire face. Louis' going to love this.

****

When he picks Louis up, he's nervous, but he's also so excited that he thinks he may burst. 

"Hey," Louis says quietly, and Harry wants to squeal with joy because Louis' wearing his glasses, and Louis' glasses are like, his favorite thing ever. 

The date's off to a good start so far, and Louis isn't even completely in the car yet.

"Hi," Harry says back, grinning. "How are you?"

"I'm great, and you?"

"Absolutely wonderful, thanks for asking!"

Louis chuckles at Harry's enthusiasm, and Harry peels away from the curb. "You look really nice," Harry says almost shyly -- which, what? Harry is not shy about these things, no sir. Not usually, at least.

Louis blushes. "Thank you," he says, and he sounds so pleased that Harry wants to burst (again). "You do too."

Harry gently brings the car to a stop then, because there's a stoplight, and he looks over at Louis. He doesn't say anything, though, just looks at him, and Louis' blushing more and more by the second. "Harry, why are you loo -- "

Before Louis can even get the question out of his mouth, Harry's lunged forward and stolen a kiss on Louis' cheek, and Louis squeaks. "Oh!" he says, surprised, and then the light turns green and Harry continues on with a smirk -- Louis blushing madly beside him. 

****

"You're not hungry yet, are you?" Harry asks after he pulls into the parking lot, and Louis shrugs. "I can live a little longer without food. What are we doing?"

"You'll see."

He parks, and the two jump out of the car. Louis looks confused, which is good. Harry holds a hand out to Louis, and Louis blushes yet again, scurrying over to take it. They walk slowly, Harry swinging their hands between them. 

Harry decided to approach the shop from the back entrance, so that he could prolong the surprise as much as he possibly could. Louis still looks confused. 

When they reach the corner -- around which is the door -- Harry stops them, spinning around to face Louis suddenly. 

"Louis, do you trust me?"

Louis swallows thickly, but doesn't take his eyes off of Harry's. "Um."

Harry waits patiently, not wanting to push him. 

"Y-yeah. I do."

Harry's heart swells to ten times its size, because that means so much to him -- and he thinks it's evident on his face too. It's just about exploded into a billion rainbows. 

"Good. Close your eyes."

Louis swallows again, and screws his eyes shut tight. Harry takes both of Louis' hands in his, and gently leads him around the corner, saying "watch your step" here and there, just to make sure Louis' okay. Every time he warns him, though, Louis smiles a little, and it makes Harry want to kiss him. 

But he can't. Not yet. 

"Almost there," Harry says softly, and a few steps later, they're at the foot of the steps. He spins Louis around to face the entrance, and takes a deep breath. This is it. 

"Open your eyes, Lou."

His eyelids snap open excitedly, blue irises darting about, taking in the sight before him. When it sinks in, he gasps. 

It's an old little shop, wooden and worn down and almost forgotten. It's warm and inviting, though, with its dark brown exterior and the brightly glowing lamps shining out through the small windows. On the antique, wooden door, in swirling burgundy letters, there is one word: "Serendipity."

"Let's go inside, yeah?" Harry says, hand on the small of Louis' back. All Louis can do in response is nod. 

****

A bell lightly tinkles as Harry pushes open the door, and he steps to the side and holds the door open for Louis so that he can walk inside. Louis swallows thickly as he looks around, running a hand through his slightly long, shaggy hair. 

The room is cozy, with an aura about it that makes one automatically feel at home the second they walk in. The carpet is a dark red and is soft beneath the soles of Harry's shoes, and everything smells of cinnamon and chocolate -- not in an overpowering way, but an amount that's just right. Small tables are scattered here and there with a small lamp or candles on each one. Every table is surrounded by two or three comfortable looking armchairs, each chair a different style. It's quirky and eccentric, and Harry loves it. 

With one look at Louis' face, Harry can tell that Louis loves it too. 

To their left, there's a small, dark wooden counter, on top of which is an assortment of sweets and pastries. There' s a large menu hanging over the counter, displaying a list of teas, coffees, and smoothies to choose from. A little farther down, beyond the counter and the chairs and tables, are shelves -- bookshelves, tons of them. Row upon row, each shelf stuffed with books, looking like they're going to explode. 

It's perfect. 

"Hello boys!" 

Harry turns around to see that an old woman has appeared behind the counter, with a sweet smile and kind eyes. He smiles at her. "Hello!" he says brightly. Louis' too distracted with his surroundings to respond. 

"What can I do for you?" she asks, and before Harry can say anything, Louis jumps in. 

"This place is...it's incredible, honestly. Are these books for sale, or?..."

The woman's eyes twinkle warmly. "They are, but not in the way you'd think. You see, if you want to take one of these books home, you have to bring a book here and leave it for someone else to find."

Louis' eyes are filled with wonder. He grabs Harry's hand and tugs him along. "Thank you, we'll be back in a bit!" Harry calls back to the woman as he stumbles backwards, and she just chuckles amusedly before returning to the back room behind the counter. 

"Harry, this is incredible!" Louis says as they walk. He's scanning the names of the sections, the signs dictating the genres of each shelf looking very worn out and old, as if they're going to fall apart at any second. But somehow, that fact makes them all the more beautiful.

Louis stops under a poetry shelf, thumbing through the thin books and taking a few out to examine them before putting them back. Harry can't do anything but watch Louis. 

Then, Louis furrows his eyebrows in confusion as he takes out another book. He mouths out the words on the cover before pressing his lips together. He turns the book around to show Harry. "The Great Gatsby? This isn't poetry. I mean, it's an incredible book, but it's a novel."

Louis flips open the book, Harry looking over his shoulder. Louis makes a surprised little noise then, because there, on the inside cover, is a yellow post-it note:

I know you're thinking this isn't poetry. I disagree. See, the subtlety in this story is poetry in itself; never have I ever read anything so eloquently written, with words strung together so effortlessly, or gorgeously, in such a smooth and silent way. I am a firm believer that subtlety is an art, and F. Scott Fitzgerald is its master. This novel is easily better than any poem I've ever read. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

No name is signed, no indication is given of who left the book. All that is written after this little note is a series of page numbers, marked with stars as "favorite passages." Louis flips to a few of them, reading them aloud, but then he turns to a passage that leaves him speechless, breathless even. 

Harry steps closer to Louis from behind, gently resting his hands on Louis' waist and hooking his chin over Louis' shoulder. He takes it upon himself to read the passage out loud for the both of them.

" 'They're a rotten crowd,' I shouted across the lawn. 'You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.'  
I've always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him, because I disapproved of him from beginning to end. First he nodded politely, and then his face broke into that radiant and understanding smile, as if we'd been in ecstatic cahoots on that fact all the time. His gorgeous pink rag of a suit made a bright spot of color against the white steps, and I thought of the night when I first came to his ancestral home, three months before. The lawn and drive had been crowded with the faces of those who guessed at his corruption -- and he had stood on those steps, concealing his incorruptible dream, as he waved them good-by.  
I thanked him for his hospitality. We were always thanking him for that -- I and the others.  
'Good-by,' I called. 'I enjoyed breakfast, Gatsby.' "

Harry blinks a few times, as the passage sets in -- he understands why Louis was breathless now, because that -- that was beautiful. He can't hear anything but the pounding of his heart and the soft sounds of their breath. He straightens up, without letting go of Louis' waist, and moves around from behind Louis so that he can see the book better, holding onto it with one hand while Louis holds onto the other side with his. " 'They're a rotten crowd,' Harry says out loud again -- except this time, he's whispering, and this time, he's looking Louis straight in the eyes. He holds Louis' gaze as the words slowly drip out of his mouth, and they can't look away from each other, as if they're in a trance -- as if they're in another world. It's magic. They're leaning closer to each other with every beat of Harry's heart, and then they stop mere centimeters away from each other, the air between them electrified. Harry takes a deep breath. " 'You're worth the whole damn bunch put together.' "

Silence reverberates around them for a split second before Louis drops the book and captures Harry's lips in his own. 

And Harry concludes that yes, the anonymous post-it author was right -- that was most definitely poetry, in the most poetic way that poetry can be. 

****

"It's amazing though," Louis says quietly as he flips through a tattered copy of The Last True Story I'll Ever Tell. He and Harry are sitting at one of the small tables in the front of the shop, drinking tea in armchairs and sifting through the piles of books they collected. "All of these people who have left these books -- they didn't leave them just to leave them, you know? They loved these books, and what they found in them. They've left a piece of themselves here, a part of them is on these shelves, for others to discover. And they've left notes and everything, and annotations in the books about their thoughts and feelings to pass on to other people. And it's all anonymous!"

Louis snaps the book shut and holds it up. "You know that a book is loved," he says quietly, pointing to the withered cover, "When it looks as beat-up, used, and written-in as this one."

He sets the book down and sighs. "It's a beautiful thing, though. This is beautiful. This place is beautiful. What this place stands for is beautiful. Expression, emotion, passion, and beauty through the written word. A place where nothing matters, where names and authors and all of that don't matter -- it's about the words themselves, about the ideas and brilliance stored up in this room. It's like...it's like this place isn't real. It's almost -- almost like magic, almost like an entirely different planet. Almost like it's someplace spiritual, or summat."

Harry's at a loss for words. Louis is beautiful.

"Thank you," he says softly, "for bringing me here. It's incredible. I've never loved any bookstore or library or any place the way I love this one."

"Thank Zayn, actually. He recommended it, and I trusted his judgement. I'm glad I did, too."

Louis' silent, smiling at Harry with nothing but fondness in his eyes. It makes Harry's heart flutter. 

"And," Harry continues, "Zayn told me about how, to get a book, you have to leave a book here. So, I brought two books, one for each of us. Pick whatever you'd like."

"What books do you have?"

Harry smiles sheepishly. "I just grabbed the first two I could find, I brought The Catcher in the Rye and Hamlet. I didn't really think about leaving anything meaningful, I'd never been here before, so. Yeah. But, who knows, maybe someone will find them, and want to read them, and end up making them meaningful, you know?"

Louis bites his lip to hide his growing smile, standing up from his chair and going over to peck Harry softly on the cheek. "You're adorable."

Harry simply blushes and hands Louis Hamlet, and with a light tug at Harry's curls, Louis has disappeared within the jungle of bookshelves. 

****

Walking out of Serendipity, a bell tinkling behind them and the sweet old woman behind the counter -- Ruth -- telling them to come back soon, Harry is the happiest he's been in a long time. "So, what book did you end up getting?" he asks Louis softly. "I got Hope -- A Tragedy by Shalom Auslander. The name sounds depressing, but I've read a few of the notes left inside from previous owners, and they all said it was funny, so. I'm excited to read it. What'd you get?"

Harry blushes, and shows Louis his book. 

"Oh," Louis says, blushing as well and giggling a bit. 

"And I don't think I'll be taking this book back anytime soon to trade for another one, either," Harry says quietly, looking at the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg staring out blankly from the cover. "Despite the fact that it's not technically poetry, the person who had this book before was right. The Great Gatsby is gorgeous."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Harry looks back up at Louis from where his eyes had been trained on the book. "Because," he says, "aside from the fact that it's a masterpiece in itself, it allowed for me to have a perfect first kiss with a gorgeous, perfect person."

Harry doesn't think he's ever seen Louis shine brighter.


	10. week six: part two

When Harry drops Louis off, Louis walks up the stairs in front of his building but pauses at the top to watch Harry's car turn the corner. 

Once he's sure Harry's car is gone, he lets his smile take over his face, blushing to himself about how giddy he feels. He makes his way over to his door while gripping his book in his hand, unable to stop thinking about his and Harry's date, and about how perfect their dinner was after the bookstore -- and about how great Harry is to him in general. 

He's so lost in his own mind that once he's inside, he finds himself doing the teenage girl-esque sigh-against-the-door thing. Which he really, truly could've pretended never happened, had it not been for --

"Well well well."

In hindsight, Louis probably should have seen this coming, given that he and Zayn are roommates and all. 

Louis jumps. "Zayn!"

Zayn does nothing but lean further back into the couch, throwing a foot onto the coffee table and taking a noisy bite of his apple. 

Louis clears his throat, ducking his head down in the guise of fixing his hair. "So." He coughs. "What's up man?"

Zayn snorts. "I should be asking you, shouldn't I?"

"I mean. I don't know."

Zayn rolls his eyes. "So you and Harry went on a date."

Louis hesitates, then nods. 

"And you didn't tell me about it."

"Sorry?"

Zayn sighs, sitting up. "Listen Lou," he says, his tone having become significantly gentler. "You didn't have to hide it from me."

"But I feel like you would have discouraged me, or convinced me not to go, when I really, really wanted to. And I had so much fun Zayn, I just -- "

"Louis," Zayn interrupts forcefully, before going quiet again. "I wouldn't have forced you not to go. You're an adult, for Christ's sake -- you can make your own decisions."

"But you've been saying -- "

"Maybe I was wrong. Harry -- I talked to him about your date, I don't know if he told you."

"He did."

"Good. He passed the honesty test."

Louis' jaw drops. "Did you plan -- "

"Anyways, I talked to him, and he was -- he seems to really care about you. And that's all I could ever ask for."

Louis' face lights up. "So you like him?"

"Not quite yet. I...I approve, for now. He better not do anything to change that."

All Louis can do is squeal. He runs over to Zayn and tackles him with a starfish hug, smiling so big that he thinks his face might chip into pieces. "God, thank you so much Zayn, thank you."

"Ew," Zayn says jokingly, half-heartedly attempting to push Louis off of him. "Get away from me, weirdo."

Louis just squeezes tighter. "Never ever."

****

The next morning, Louis wakes up to a shirtless Harry Styles, accompanied by a clothed Zayn Malik, in his kitchen.

Both Harry and Zayn turn around when Louis enters the kitchen, Harry's face suddenly brightening up like the sun. Zayn notices Harry's change in expression and rolls his eyes, though he's grinning nearly as big as Harry is. "Surprise!" Harry says, throwing his hands up in the air and accidentally knocking a spatula over in the process. 

"Shit, sorry," he squeaks, bending down to get it. 

Louis is too shocked to move. 

"How did you -- ?" Louis trails off. Harry takes over. "Zayn called me earlier and asked if I wanted to join you guys for some breakfast, so I said yes."

"You did more than agree," Zayn says. "He knocked on our door holding bags of groceries and offering to fucking cook for us."

Harry nods eagerly like a child looking for approval. "I'm making a full english, just like at home! You can't really find this in America."

"Harry, when I invited you over, I was planning on making some eggs or something for all of us. I was supposed to cook for you, that's how being invited somewhere works," Zayn says jokingly, playfully punching Harry's arm. "You didn't have to turn our kitchen into the set of Chopped."

Harry shrugs. "I never go over to anyone's home empty-handed," he says seriously, and holy fucking shit, who is this person? 

"Well," Louis finally says. "Looks like your mother raised you right, Styles."

Harry's face breaks out into another blinding grin. "What can I say? That's us Styleses. Now come help us."

Louis hesitantly scurries into the kitchen. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Cooking and me don't really mix."

"He speaks the truth," Zayn pipes up from where he's sticking his head into the fridge, looking for something.

"Oh shush," Harry calls playfully over to Zayn, and Louis' surprised -- and suspicious -- because it seems like they've really hit it off. It doesn't seem possible. 

"Okay, so I need you to come over here and..."

Louis doesn't even listen to what Harry's saying, because yeah, Harry's kind of not wearing a shirt and he's standing very close to him, and Louis' going a bit crazy at the moment because of it. His senses have been assaulted. In no way is any of this fair. 

"Lou?" 

Louis' eyes snap up to meet Harry's, which are glimmering amusedly. His mouth quirks up into a half-smile, and he takes a step closer. "Like what you see?" he says quietly to Louis with his deep, rumbling voice, and -- what?

Louis blushes, and sputters. "I mean, I -- I don't -- "

"No flirting in the kitchen!" Zayn shouts from where he's sitll rummaging for something in the fridge.

This time both of them blush and quickly jump apart, Harry scratching the back of his neck.

"You know," Louis says evenly, gesturing to the hallway. "I think I'm going to go, um. Inside there, for a second." Wow, Louis. Very smooth.

"Oh, okay," Harry quickly agrees -- maybe a bit too quickly. Zayn is narrowing his eyes at him as he pours three glasses of orange juice. 

As soon as Harry finishes his sentence, Louis is rushing into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He sighs and sits on the toilet, burying his head in his hands. 

Why on earth does he have to be the most awkward human being on the planet?

After a second or two, Louis stands up and opens the cabinet above the sink to brush his teeth. 

To say the least, Louis thinks this is going to be an interesting morning.

****

Upon leaving the bathroom, Louis decides that he was correct in his assumption, because Liam and Niall are sitting on the couch. 

They smile at Louis in faux-innocence, and Louis narrows his eyes. He can see right through their petty facade. This is ridiculous.

"Did Zayn invite you two over?" he asks slowly, feeling lots of deja vu.

"No, Harry did actually," Niall says, fluttering his lashes. Louis rolls his eyes. 

"Lou?" Harry calls from the kitchen, and Louis blushes a bit. Liam and Niall, observant as ever, burst into laughter. 

"How cute, Niall!" Liam exclaims between gasps. "Baby Lou is blushing!"

Louis gives them the iciest, angriest glare he possibly can before making his way over to Harry.

His friends are the worst.

****

The most surprising part about all of this is how easy it actually is. 

The five of them sit there and eat Harry's breakfast, and they just talk and converse freely and smoothly, without any awkward pauses.

It's almost as if Harry's always been a part of their group. And the feeling is absolutely insane.

The whole thing makes Louis really happy, to be honest. Just -- really, really happy. Harry makes him happy. 

Harry is his second chance. Harry means starting over.

And as Harry turns and looks at him, as if reading his thoughts, and winks, Louis realizes that he is very, very lucky that Harry talked to him on that first day of the semester. 

He winks back, and all feels well.


	11. week seven: part one

_Week Seven  
So, Louis and I went on our date. And it went really well. He definitely started to open up a bit more, let his guard down. I suppose it's been working._

Harry can't help but smile as he writes in his psych journal, sitting in his Shakespeare seminar on the following Monday morning before class. Louis just makes him happy.

_I'll have to see how much more it'll take for him to tell me more about his family and all. He hasn't really revealed anything personal yet -- all I know about him is the small things, favorite food and stuff. I don't really know anything huge yet.  
I'm not planning on rushing him, that'd just scare him off. I'm just happy to be making any progress at all, to be completely honest. I wasn't sure I'd get anywhere._

With a tiny nod to himself, Harry decides that this is enough for the day, pushing the journal forward on his desk. He hears the door open from somewhere behind him, and spins around quickly, lighting up when a disheveled Louis quickly walks into the room.

"Hey," Louis says breathlessly as he slides into the seat next to Harry, hand brushing against Harry's arm slightly. Harry resists the urge to shiver as chills run up and down his spine.

"Hi," Harry says warmly, cheeks heating up a bit as he smiles at Louis. The corners of Louis' lips pull up a tad, and as Louis adjusts his glasses, Harry can see a faint pink appear on his cheeks. It only makes Harry smile wider. 

Louis sets his bag down and rummages through it, probably looking for his notebook and a pen. Harry can't help but admire the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the spread of his eyelashes behind the lenses of his glasses, the way his hair is shaggier today instead of styled upwards as it usually is. 

This is the boy that Harry took on a date. Christ.

And speaking of dates.

"So what are you doing after class today?" Harry says slowly, in a way that he hopes sounds casual. He leans back in his chair and stretches his arms over his head, because he doesn't want to look to eager -- and then manages to almost fall off of his chair. Yes, the perfect picture of casual, he is.

Louis muffles a giggle in his sweater paw, nudging Harry lightly in the side. "Careful," he says quietly, and Harry really wants to kiss him. 

When Harry manages to straighten himself out, he looks back to Louis, dead in the eyes. "Well? Are you busy?"

"Hm," Louis says, pursing his lips. "I don't know," he says in a tone that's supposed to be wary and unsure -- but the joking light dancing in Louis' bright blues says otherwise. Louis wrinkles his (adorable) nose as he pretends to think a bit longer, and then fake-sighs in resignation. "I've got a Greek Mythology class, but not until six."

Harry smiles widely, leaning closer to Louis -- their knees are touching now. "Would you be up for hanging out a little?"

Louis leans his upper body forward a little bit now, resting his elbow on the tabletop and his chin in his hand. "My answer depends," he purrs, hooking his ankle around Harry's under their chairs, "on what exactly we'd be doing."

Holy shit. Louis' a fucking minx, he is. Jesus. Harry feels as though he's about to burst, that his body is being pulled toward Louis', that he needs to -- 

"I don't know. Maybe sit around, watch a movie, get some food? And --" Harry practically whispers, leaning closer as he speaks, " -- probably doing some of this." His voice descends into the quietest it could possibly go at the end of the sentence, before he leans in and kisses Louis briefly, then pulls back.

(It's times like this that Harry thanks the universe for the fact that they're sitting in the very back corner of the classroom, at which no one even looks.)

Louis' eyes are wide and dark, and he bites his lip, which drives Harry fucking insane. He's about to lean in again when Louis nods and starts talking. "I -- "

Louis' answer is then interrupted by the classroom door opening once again, and the chatter dies down as their professor walks in. Shit. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Harry whispers quietly into Louis' ear before leaning back into his own seat, leaving Louis a blushing mess beside him.

****

"Sorry it's such a mess," Harry says as they walk into his dorm, silently cursing himself for not having cleaned up a bit beforehand. He tosses his satchel and notebook onto his bed carelessly, books spilling out of his bag onto the bed, and notebook falling open slightly. He shrugs and chooses not to go fix it.

"And all of this is yours?" Louis says, shocked, looking around at how spacious the room is. 

Harry nods. "I was lucky enough to get a single room. As a freshman too! Can you believe it?"

Louis shakes his head slowly, an awestruck expression taking over his face as he spins around slowly.

"I still have to share a bathroom though, which sucks," Harry adds on after a pause, to fill in the silence.

"But only with ten people at the most! When I dormed, I had to share the bathroom with a hall of like, fifty guys! It was disgusting."

Harry shrugs, dropping onto the small couch he'd had placed in the spot where his roommate's bed would've been. He gestures for Louis to sit next to him, and Louis walks over, dropping his backpack on the ground before plopping down. 

Harry pulls out his phone. "What do you want to eat? We can order in, if you'd like."

Louis shakes his head. "Nah, don't worry about that. I'm not that hungry."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Well, I am. And I'm going to order a large pepperoni, so if you'd like some, there will definitely be extra."

"But --"

"No."

Louis chuckles, rolling his eyes this time. 

As soon as Harry's ordered the pizza, he grabs the remote and turns on the TV, which is open to some shit reality show. He turns to Louis. "So do you want to watch a film, or?"

Louis shrugs. From where Harry's sitting -- and he's sitting quite close to Louis -- he can't help but notice the pinkness of his bottom lip that juts out the slightest bit with the motion, the small constellations of freckles that dot his cheeks, the faintest layer of stubble growing in on his face. He can't help but notice that Louis' so small, that his frame is tucked into the couch in such a way that all Harry wants to do is hold him. "Or?"

Harry swallows thickly. Louis' eyes flicker down to the way Harry's adams apple bobs, then they dart up to his lips, then to his eyes. "I wasn't, " Harry begin, blushing under Louis' scrutiny, "I wasn't saying, like. It was. Um. The 'or' was rhetorical, I only meant that. Um."

Louis chuckles softly, and Harry's eyes flicker back down to his mouth. He shifts so that he's facing Harry now, and leans one arm on the back of the couch. "I know, don't be silly. I was only wondering if we had any -- " He pauses, leaning in slightly, " -- other options, hm?"

Now this is strange, because Louis is -- he's just being so bold, and this isn't like him. That's obviously not to say that Harry doesn't like it -- of course he does, he's not stupid -- but he's a bit overwhelmed. It's as if their roles have been reversed; Louis' the one making the move now. Harry doesn't know what to do.

Harry swallows again. "I mean. Yeah."

Louis just blinks at him once before throwing his head back in laughter, the sound ringing throughout the room happily. It's so contagious that Harry can't help but chuckle along.

"God, Harry, you're so fucking weird," is all that Louis mutters quietly after regaining his composure -- and then he's leaning forward and attaching his lips to Harry's, his hand fiddling with the hair at the nape of Harry's neck.

Harry's startled for a moment, taken by surprise, before he melts into the kiss, responding enthusiastically. Without breaking contact, he shifts on the couch so that he's closer to Louis, and Louis hums appreciatively at the more comfortable positioning. 

Harry's hands rest on Louis' waist, skimming the bottom of Louis' sweater. Louis' hand grips Harry's neck more tightly as they do so, and their kissing becomes more eager, less languid.

They sit there, tangled up in each other, making out for who knows how long, until -- 

Thud thud

They jump apart quickly, startled at the interruption, but then giggle when they realize who it is. "That'll be the pizza," Harry says, pecking Louis' lips once before standing up reluctantly. Louis' lips chase Harry's as he pulls away, making Harry laugh and Louis pout. 

"Grab me my wallet, Lou?" Harry asks as he's walking towards the door, "It'll be in the side pocket of my bag."

"Sure thing," Louis says, standing up and taking the mere two steps to where Harry's bag is sitting on his bed.

Then something hits Harry, hits him like a fucking freight train. He pauses, turns around and faces Louis. "Will you be my boyfriend?" he blurts out in a rush. 

It's all so stupid and feels so juvenile, as if it's something that should only happen in middle school. He's blushing so hard and he's biting his lip and he can't breathe, but the shocked (but pleased) look on Louis' face makes it all worth it. 

"What -- you -- really?" Louis asks softly.

Thud thud

Harry nods, looking at Louis hopefully. 

Louis opens his mouth to respond, pauses, and then grins. "Yeah," he says, "I will."

Harry's face breaks into a grin, and he wants to say something, go over there and just kiss him, but -- 

Thud thud thud

"You should probably get that, babe," Louis says, laughter in his eyes. Harry's smile simply widens before he turns back around and walks the rest of the way to the door.

He opens the door, and sure enough, a pizza delivery man is standing at the door. He looks slightly taken aback at the manic, happy grin on Harry's face. "One large pepperoni for Harry?"

"Yup, that's me," Harry says. The man gives Harry a tentative, practiced smile. "That'll be $11.95."

Harry turns around to face Louis, who's holding his wallet, and Louis tosses it to him, Harry catching it easily. He can sense the delivery guy shift uncomfortably, looking Harry up and down and taking in his disheveled state. Harry blushes lightly when he realizes that it's probably quite obvious what they'd been doing. 

He hands the guy a twenty and tells him to keep the change as a tip, taking the pizza box from him and thanking him. He shuts the door with his foot as he turns around, and sets the pizza onto the chipped coffee table in front of the couch. "You sure you're not hungry Lou?" he asks as he opens up the box. 

He's trying to figure out which slice he wants -- not the one with the weird bread-bubble for sure, and not the one with the lumpy looking cheese spot -- when he realizes that Louis hasn't answered. "Lou?" he asks again, turning around this time. 

Louis is holding Harry's psych journal. 

His mouth is hanging open in complete shock, his eyes wide. There's confusion and frustration written all over his face, and he looks up at Harry with disbelief and betrayal in his eyes. "What the fuck is this?!" 

Harry blanches. "H-huh?"

"He definitely started to open up a bit more, let his guard down?!" Louis reads patronizingly. The amount of anger laced into his words is earth-shattering, and Harry feels the need to step back. "I'll have to see how much more it'll take for him to tell me more about his family and all, he hasn't really revealed anything personal yet?! I suppose it's been working?!" He flips through a few more pages. "He seems like he's the kind of person who doesn't like being around people; he seems kind of anxious whenever people walk into our Shakespearean literature class, and he always ducks his head down low whenever they pass by." He pauses here, voice getting shaky. Harry can see his eyes shimmering with a film of tears, and Harry's heart seizes up. He's absolutely frozen, rooted to the spot. "It's possible that he is as reserved as he is because of something that happened when he was younger, which would be a psychoanalytical hypothesis. It's also possible that socioculturally, someone else, or a multitude of people, have somehow caused him to feel insecure with himself around other people." 

Louis snaps the notebook shut and throws it onto Harry's bed. "You've used me as your experiment?" he says, tone vulnerable and filled to the brim with disbelief.

"No, that's not -- "

"You wrote about me to your professor, for your psychology class? That's all I am to you?" Louis' voice is shaking more and more, his lip trembling as he adjusts his glasses. "A fucking case study?!"

Harry takes a step forward. "Louis, you don't understand -- "

"No, I understand perfectly," Louis says, voice getting louder now. "You've been stringing me along, trying to get me to trust you to see how quickly you could get to me. So that you could fucking write about it, so that you could get a fucking A," he practically spits. "You even got me to agree to be your boyfriend, for fuck's sake, just to see how far you could fucking get."

"That's not it at all, Louis! Did you not see what I wrote about -- "

"Oh, I saw everything you wrote," Louis continues angrily. "I fucking saw all of it. I fucking saw the way you were planning on humiliating me by telling your teacher every little thing about me, everything that I'd have wanted you to keep a secret if I had told you. Well, I'm fucking glad I didn't. You don't deserve shit from me." He's shaking with anger now, fuming with it. Harry feels like his world has turned upside down. 

Louis rushes over to the couch to pick up his backpack, flinching away from Harry when he reaches out for him. "Louis, please listen to me, let me -- "

"No. Don't say a fucking word to me, I don't want to fucking hear it. You're such a piece of shit, I can't believe I trusted you!" Harry cringes from Louis' malicious tone -- he's never heard Louis speak like this, each word coming out of his mouth absolutely poisonous, deadly even. 

Louis pauses, looking back at Harry with icy blue fire in his eyes. "I hope this gives you plenty of material to fucking write about in your next fucking entry. You can tell your professor about how 'emotionally unstable' I am, or some shit like that. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I bet you'd get a good fucking grade out of it," he snaps. 

"Louis, please." Harry's resorted to begging now, taking another shaky step forward from where he'd been frozen in place. The smell of the pizza, once appetizing, is now making him feel sick. "Let me explain."

"No, you know what? Let me explain," Louis says, as he walks toward the door. "I never want to fucking see you again. I never want to speak to you again. Never."

He looks back at Harry as he holds the door open. "Liam was right. I shouldn't have believed you. You're just like the rest of them," he says acidly, lethally, before walking out .

Harry, dumbfounded, can't do anything but stare as the door slams shut behind him.


End file.
